When Heroes Grieve
by Aussie Nightwriter
Summary: Bruce must face the unthinkable... the loss of his son. Relax. It's me. I don't write deathfics. (g) Final Chapter uploaded. Thank you to everyone who has joined me on the journey.
1. Chapter One

** WHEN HEROES GRIEVE  **  
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.  
  


THIS STORY IS  NOT  A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.

* * *

** Part One **

**__**

Grief. A faceless entity. An invisible and insidious assault on the very soul of a man. Each must find his own path back from the abyss. Some, however, are forever lost.

Bruce stared down at the wooden cross in front of him. Not much to show for a life. Certainly not enough for a free spirit like... Wayne swallowed.

The wind picked up around him as winter announced itself without mercy. One of the shutters on the small shed behind him began to bang against the wall - a pounding emptiness that echoed the meaninglessness of the figure's own existence.

The horses in the distant stables shifted restlessly, sensing the approach of a frosty evening. Bruce shivered, though made he no attempt to pull his jumper around himself. Such an action required unconscious thought... and Wayne wasn't even capable of that. The anger, disbelief and refusal to accept what others proclaimed had all been replaced by an emotion this man knew only too well. The most debilitating state of mind and heart known to humanity had risen up and consumed him.

Wayne lifted his eyes to the long drive way that snaked its way up to the property. He longed to see the approach of... but he never would again. The millionaire re-focused his attention on the impassive stake that represented everything that had meant anything to him.

"Master Bruce." Wayne didn't move. Alfred wasn't sure if his charge had heard him. The elderly man didn't want to interrupt, but he knew he needed to get Bruce indoors before the grieving man caught pneumonia. Alfred approached his companion and stopped beside him. For a long time he said nothing, staring himself at the plain wooden cross inscribed with a name. Bruce had refused to create a memorial of marble. Nor had he acknowledged the service held at the cemetery. Rather, he had come here... here to a spot that meant something to him... that had meant something to both of them.

The wind lashed the pair as they stood motionless, one drowning in his own numbness, the other searching for some way to help this man he thought of as a son to deal with his grief.

"It's getting dark. Let's go inside," Alfred coaxed, turning. Wayne didn't move - tragically frozen in the shadow of the cross. "Bruce," Alfred encouraged, taking the silent figure's arm. For the first time since Alfred had arrived some twenty minutes earlier, Wayne acknowledged his presence with a nod. Together the two men walked toward the looming mansion some two hundred feet away.

They walked in silence, Alfred's heart as lost as Bruce's, but he had found the strength he needed to go on in the fact that Bruce needed him - needed him like he'd never needed him before.

When they reached the house, Alfred unlocked the door. "You go on in. I've got to get some things from the car."

Wayne made no indication that he'd heard. Alfred watched the once proud man climb the stairs, his face dropped and his arms hanging uselessly at his sides. Alfred Pennyworth shut his eyes and tried to maintain control of his emotions. He just couldn't handle seeing Bruce like this. Happiness had literally slipped through Wayne's fingers.

"Why don't you get a fire started while I unpack these groceries," the butler suggested, entering the huge open lounge room. Wayne didn't move. He was sitting on the edge of one of the leather chairs, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him and eyes directed at the floor with intense concentration. "Master Bruce?" Wayne raised his face. "Come on, son. You get a fire started. It's going be cold tonight."

Rising to his feet, Bruce headed for the door. "I'll get some firewood." Words! Finally, Alfred had been able to get a response out of Bruce. Almost two weeks without a single sound had been wearing at the butler's resolve. After all, he too was grieving.

Fuelled with renewed hope, Alfred headed into the kitchen, unpacked the groceries and spread the contents on the polished bench. Gifts had been rolling in almost hourly and considering the crisis, it was quite remarkable. Some beef from James Gordon. Some homemade bread from the Selina. An apple pie from Cassandra. Fruit from Tim's parents. Everyone had offered something. They all felt Bruce and Alfred's loss.

Grabbing some plates, Alfred began to slice the beef and share it out. Tonight he was determined to see Bruce eat something. Since the tragedy, Wayne hadn't eaten anything except the broth Leslie had managed to force into his mouth in hospital, but that was almost a week ago. Over the twelve days since the tragedy, Bruce had lost a considerable amount of weight. The fever had knocked him around originally, but the millionaire had lost interest in food since - lost interest in everything. His face was pale and gaunt. His actions were listless, almost tragic. Once Leslie had released him from hospital, Bruce had come home to the Manor. He hadn't been seen in Gotham since... and neither had Batman, which was becoming an issue.

As Pennyworth passed the window, his attention was drawn outside. Bruce had returned to the cross. Once again, the millionaire stood motionless - just staring at it. Alfred could feel the tears welling in his eyes. "Come on, my boy. Don't do this," the elderly man muttered to himself. He made his way to the door and shouted above the wind, "So, how's that firewood coming?"

Wayne remained still and silent for several more seconds and then continued on his path to the wood pile. Some moments later, he re-entered the enormous, empty house and dumped the logs next to the hearth. Without a word, the millionaire began to stack the fire. Halfway through, his hands stilled and his head dropped. Across the room, Alfred sensed the cessation of movement. The butler glanced over his shoulder. Wayne drew in a juddering breath and began to shake his head.

Alfred lowered the tray of food to the coffee table and walked up behind his companion. It was time for him to say something. This couldn't continue. "Master Bruce, it's been two weeks. You've got to let go."

"That's exactly what I did, Alfred. I let him go." Bruce stared down at his own hands. His mind was accosted with an image of Dick's face. The shock, the realization, the acceptance of his fate and finally a private message communicated via his eyes, before he was wrenched from his partner's grasp.

"Bruce, don't. You didn't let him go. No man could have held on any longer."

"Maybe. Maybe if it had been Clark... "

"Bruce, you can't do this to yourself! Dick wouldn't want this for you." Alfred forced a smile. "If I know that boy, he's probably watching you right now cursing you. I can just imagine what he'd be saying. Something like..."

"DON'T!" Bruce yelled, leaping to his feet.

Alfred swallowed, his face shadowing with despair. "I don't know what to do for you, Master Bruce," the old man whispered, his voice laced with the deep anguish he felt. _Old man_. Alfred felt incredibly old tonight. He had aged considerably in the last two weeks. "I just..." He looked away.

Wayne's anger left him quickly. The grieving man walked past his friend, patting Alfred's arm as he went by.

Pennyworth collected himself and set about changing the subject. "Miss Cassandra sent you an apple pie. I thought I might help you eat it." There was no response. "Master Tim dropped in today. While the National Guard has been able to get essential services working, morale is very low and Arkham is still missing a number of its key residents. Apparently, things are quite out of control. I think young Master Tim could use a hand." Alfred waited. Would Bruce consider the proposal? Would he once again pull on the cape and cowl?

"No, Alfred. I've got things I need to do here."

Alfred suppressed the urge to ask what. Gotham was desperately trying to survive one of the greatest _almost_-natural disasters it had ever seen. The disaster was natural only in so far as the destruction had been the result of nature, but nature had not acted of her own accord. Nature wasn't that precise. At exactly the same moment, cities all over the world were hit by differing tragedies. Tornadoes, cyclones, blizzards and fires ravaged the Earth at the beckoning of a faceless foe. The planet's protectors could not face the cause on a united front, each racing to their home base to do what they could to protect innocent people from the result of the merciless attack. Metropolis was assaulted by blizzards. Keystone, fires. For Gotham it was a typhoon - a typhoon in the middle of winter. Like the disasters assailing other cities, the typhoon had hit with little warning. The heavy rain caused local flooding within minutes, but the drenching had continued for three days. Gotham City was swamped by driving walls of water. In those seventy-two hours, a decade's worth of rain fell. The devastation was immense. Half the city went under water. More than twenty thousand people had drowned - so quickly had the water risen. There were half a million people missing or displaced in Gotham.

When the typhoon had hit, Batman had sent an emergency request to his team. All had responded immediately and together they had battled the elements to save their city... but not all had survived the war. The casualties had been high - too high. Since Bruce had recovered from the ravages that had afflicted him, he hadn't pulled on the costume... he couldn't pull on the costume.

"How about I help you with whatever it is you need to do and then we can go and give Master Timothy a hand?" Bruce glanced at his friend and Alfred could see it was time to stop pushing. "Alright, son." Bruce wasn't ready yet, but Alfred suspected that Wayne may never be ready. Bruce had created Batman as his way of preventing the world from suffering his own tragedy. It wasn't just a nightly chance for seeking revenge for the death of his parents, though Alfred knew that was part of it... had been all of it until Dick had come into their lives. The night Bruce had brought the terrified child home, Batman's crusade changed. From then on, he pulled on the cowl to protect others. "Batman failed," Bruce had whispered to Alfred in hospital. "How can Batman protect others when he couldn't even protect his own...?" He couldn't say the word. He hadn't used it enough at the time when he could and now... now his 'son' was gone.

The two men retired to the table to eat their meal. The flickering of the fire that had always seemed so warm and comforting did nothing but cast shadows over Wayne's heart.

Bruce sat in silence as Alfred continued to make conversation. Over the course of ten minutes, the butler noted that Wayne hadn't touched his plate of food.

"Bruce, you have to eat."

"I'm not hungry, Alfred."

"Bruce, you haven't eaten anything in days."

"More coffee?" Wayne asked, standing and moving off to the kitchen.

"Damn it, son. Don't brush me aside."

"I'm not... I am... I'm sorry." The words were so soft.

Alfred put his knife and fork down. It was like Bruce had given up on life. This was so much worse than the last time Wayne had lost someone he cared about. After Jason's death, Bruce had turned into an aggressive sonofabitch who sought refuge in pounding the life out of every miscreant that crossed his path. At least it had allowed Alfred to be angry with him. The anger had actually assisted Alfred with his own grief. It had given him something to focus on. This time, however, Wayne hadn't even looked at seeking solace through others. Bruce had been angry at first but then he had just given up - stopped caring. The millionaire was simply existing... no longer living. Of course, if he didn't start eating, the former would cease also. Perhaps unconsciously, that was what Bruce wanted.

Wayne stared out into the darkness beyond the window. The moon lit the small white cross. "I had him, Alfred." Bruce glanced down at his open hands for what was the millionth time in the dozen days since Dick had been stolen from him. "I had him but... the water was just too strong." The tough man's voice broke with emotion. He would never forget the look on Dick's face, nor the events that had led to the loss of the best man he had ever known...

This is not a deathfic - I promise  
  
PART TWO COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.  


** © JuLY 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	2. Chapter Two

** WHEN HEROES GRIEVE  **  
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.  
  


THIS STORY IS  NOT  A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.

* * *

** Part Two **

_The world had exploded, or so it seemed. Batman stared at the skyline beyond Gotham City. It was breathing with life. Raven in colour and moving with an intensity that echoed authority, day was turning into night. Batman could do nothing but stare at the enormity of nature. He could defend his city against madmen like the Joker and drug lords like the Bostilli family, but how in God's name did they fight something like that?!_

What he was looking at was not a tangible entity, nor was it the sky. It was a cloud, but this cloud extended as far as the eye could see and it was moving toward Gotham City at visible speed. The billowing mass was as high as a mountain and as ominous as the devil's soul. The sinister cloud belittled all before it, exuding a power humanity could never have. The land below it was shuddering in expectation, the living and non-living bowing before it as it continued on its path toward Gotham City.

On the streets below Batman, yelps and gasps echoed out of the town's citizens. Panic and hysteria was setting in as people raced out of buildings and then into others, adding their own cries of disbelief and terror and yet, there was an unreal stillness about the air. Without warning, the wind began to pick up. A wind of ice... and then the rain started - though this wasn't rain. This was Mother Nature spewing forth her dissatisfaction at being woken without her consent.

Batman shouted instructions to those below, but it was impossible. They couldn't hear him above the roaring winds and pelting rain.

"Nightwing?" Batman barked into his communicator, clinging to the side of the building as he was buffeted by the fervent elements.

"Holy Mother of God, help us," Dick responded. "Bruce, what the hell are we going to do?" Batman heard fear in his partner's voice. He hadn't heard that since Dick was a child. For the first time, Nightwing had used Bruce's first name over the communicator.

"Help as many as you can and be careful."

"Got it... and you too."

In only minutes, the flooding started. Police and emergency services were swamped. Robin, Batgirl, Huntress and even Catwoman had responded to Bruce's call for assistance, but there was little they could do but watch and try to help as many people survive as possible. The minutes quickly became hours, but the storm showed no sign of weakening.

"Batman, what the hell is causing this?" Robin shouted. He was becoming weary and needed to steal a few moments' rest. Standing in an alcove on top of a building, Robin squinted out through the driving rain. His partners were out there somewhere, each of them doing an impossible job in an impossible situation.

"I'm guessing The Weather Wizard is responsible," Batman responded, from across the city.

"But he's never had the strength to co-ordinate such an attack before," Huntress pointed out as she, too, stopped for a few seconds' rest.

"His wand's power has been magnified," Nightwing cried, overhearing the conversation via the small earphone in his mask. "It's okay, Ma'am. I've got you."

"Magnified?" Batgirl asked, securing a rail that had been about to fall on a group of people huddled together.

"I spoke to Oracle. She's traced all of this back to the wand and calculates that its energy has been increased by up to 200%,"Nightwing replied, safely depositing the woman he had snatched from the water. "Psimon is responsible."

"How do you know?" Batman demanded, rescuing a family from their flooding apartment.

"I don't," Nightwing admitted, pausing to catch his breath. "However, Psimon disappeared a few months ago. He'd have the ability to magnify the Weather Wizard's wand. It's the only explanation I can think of."

"You could be right," Batman agreed, his mind zapping at a million miles an hour. The only way to stop the disasters attacking the world was by hunting down those responsible, but that would mean abandoning the people of Gotham. Whoever was behind the attack was using Earth's heroes' own loyalty and compassion against them. All were too busy protecting innocent people to mount an assault on the perpetrator.

"How did he get his hands on this wand?" Catwoman snarled, as she stLindad to pull a man three times her own weight to safety.

"Don't ask me. I'm not his secretary," Nightwing snapped. "It's still just a guess."

"It's a good one," Batman commended.

"I've got the Titans working on it."

"The Titans?" Batman cried, hesitating. Nightwing had sent his team into battle without him?

"They can handle it. Troia's leading them and she's in constant contact with Oracle. Oracle knows what she's doing. She'll co-ordinate everything. You needed me here," Dick added, reading his mentor's mind.

"Back to work, people," Batman ordered.

VVVVVVVVV

As the water rose, Gotham drowned. Batman watched in despair. Never had he felt so useless or so helpless.

"I need some help. I've got a bus stranded on... oh, shit, the bridge is going!" Nightwing shouted into his communicator.

"Give your position!" Batman cried.

"Nelson Bridge!"

"Everyone converge on that spot. Now." Batman's powerlessness to stop the chaos threatened to consume him. As he swung across his city to join his team, he watched as cars were swept away. Human bodies were floating down there. Bodies of people who had trusted him to protect them. Hell had arrived on Earth and Batman hadn't been able to stop it.

Batman had thought the Earthquake had been bad, but that had happened quickly. This was long, drawn out agony.

VVVVVVVVVV

"Come on!" Nightwing shouted, spotting the arrival of Robin.

As the boy approached, he took the scene in. Nelson Bridge was an old structure spanning a narrow section of the Gotham River. The water had swelled and was lapping over the bridge, but so strong was the river that the bridge was literally being pulled apart. The mooring on one side was being held by a thread. A huge section in the centre had buckled and about halfway across was a small bus. As Robin watched, the bus tipped onto its side and slid from the bridge.

"Nooo!" the teenager screamed. He and Nightwing watched as the vehicle was swept away by the tremendous current. A huge escarpment of rocks, known as Pirate's Stake rose up directly in the path of the bus. The flimsy vehicle dwarfed by nature crashed into the rocks and stopped moving. The screams of a man, a woman and several children echoed over the sound of the rushing white water.

Nightwing raced down stream. "I need another rope!" he yelled as Huntress, Catwoman and Batgirl arrived.

"Hang on!!" Huntress bellowed to the stranded family. "We're coming for you." Those trapped began yelling and waving frantically. "Try to stay calm. We're coming!"

Robin rushed over to Nightwing and handed him his high tensile rope. "What do you need me to do?" The boy was at a loss. There was no way to swing out there. What the hell was Nightwing going to do?

"Tie it to that tree!" the older man snapped, thrusting the end of Robin's coil back at the teenager and pointing to a tree further up stream. Nightwing turned and handed the other end of the cord to Selina. Catwoman understood and threaded the rope around the young man and began to tie it securely. Nightwing then tied his own coil around himself. "Feed the rope out as I go across. Don't let it all out at once, or I'll get caught in it."

Selina nodded.

Behind them, Batman appeared. He assessed the situation, instantly. "No, I'll go."

"We need your strength this side to pull them across," Nightwing argued. Batman and Nighwing's eye met and the senior nodded. "Nightwing..." _Be careful._

Grayson nodded and then rushed up the bank past the tree to which Robin had secured his end of the rope.

"Nightwing, the river's too strong. You'll never get across there."

"Current will bring me down to them." He continued to move upstream from the bus. "You get ready to haul each of them back."

"We've got another rope. I'll go out there with you," Robin suggested.

"Can't. The ropes could get tangled." With a wink of reassurance, Nightwing hurled himself into the surging white cauldron without any hesitation. His partners watched with bated breath as he resurfaced and was tossed downstream, but as Dick had stated, he was sent directly toward the stranded bus. Moments later, Nightwing reached the listing vehicle and climbed up onto it. For a second he paused to catch his breath. Grayson was strong swimmer, but the river was monstrous, the swirling water tugging and drawing everything down. The winds, too, were picking up and lashing him without mercy.

"How many of you are there?" Nightwing shouted, leaning in through the door of the tilted bus.

"Five. Me, my wife and our three little ones. The bus driver... he... was swept away when we fell from the bridge."

Dick cursed. The bus jolted. The woman and her children screamed. Nightwing could see that the vehicle wasn't going to hold together for long. The force of the current was buckling and bending the flimsy bus. The only thing saving it from filling with water and sinking was the fact that it was snagged on the rocks.

"Each of us is going to have to take a child back with us. You go first."

"But my wife."

"Don't argue!" Quickly, Nightwing jumped down into the bus, untied the rope from around himself and began to fasten it around the man. He then took the second coil of rope and firmly fixed it to the bus before tying it around the man also. By having rope secured on the bank and the bus and by keeping both ropes taut, he and his partners should be able to haul the man across in a straight line.

Dick grabbed the largest child, a boy about ten, and thrust him into his father's arms. "Now you hang on real tight to your dad, understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

Dick patted the boy on the head. "You'll be fine son." Nightwing climbed back up on top of the vehicle and hauled the pair out so that the three of them were balanced on the outside of the vehicle. "My partners will pull you back," he shouted over the driving wind and rain and the roaring of the river around them. "Try to keep your back upstream, there's a lot of rubbish in the water and if it hits you, it'll be better from the back. Hold onto your boy real tight."

"Thank you," the man stated, sincerely. He reached for Nightwing's hand. Grayson took it, nodded and then assisted the man over the side. For a second he and his son disappeared and then they resurfaced. On the bank, Batman and his team began to haul the pair across. Carefully, Nightwing fed out his end of the rope.

It seemed to take an eternity, but finally the man and his child were pulled safely onto the bank. Quickly, Batman released the two pieces of rope and tied the ends together. He waved to Nightwing who began to pull the ropes back across.

A wind gust hit the bus, sweeping Dick's feet out from under him. As he fell, he grabbed ahold of the side of the bus. The entire vehicle lurched but remained wedged on the rocks. Nightwing dragged himself back up to the top, signalled his team that he was okay and then disappeared back down into the bus' interior.

"Alright, Ma'am, you're next." The woman was large and strong. Clearly, she had seen hard work in her life. She was going to need every bit of that strength today. Hastily, Dick tied both pieces of rope around her. "Don't panic if you go under a few times. Batman will get you to the side." She nodded. In her arms, she held a three year old who was sobbing softly. "You're going have to hold onto him tight. The water is fierce."

"I understand." Her eyes flicked to her seven-year-old daughter huddled against a seat, her face stained with tears, her eyes wide with terror. "You wait with this man. He'll bring you over."

"Come on, Ma'am. We don't have time to waste."

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

Nightwing nodded and then after hauling her up out of the bus, he took her arm and assisted her over the edge. Like her husband, she disappeared under the water for several seconds. When she resurfaced, she surfaced alone and screaming. She had lost hold of her baby!

Nightwing spotted the darkened patch and without a moment's hesitation, leaped into the swirling torrent.

"Nightwing!" five voices thundered as one. Batman let go of the rope knowing the others would secure the rescue of the woman. He raced along the bank; his eyes squinted as he frantically scanned the surface of the water. Nightwing's head hadn't surfaced. Come on, Dick! _ Each second that passed was like a drill driving into Batman's heart._

Finally, Nightwing broke the water and in his strong arms he had the child. Batman's mind zapped at the speed of light. How the hell was he going to get Dick to safety? His partner went under again. "Nightwing!"

Ahead, Batman spotted a five hundred year old tree that had come down in the deluge. The long trunk extended a third of the way across the raging river. Nightwing resurfaced. "Nightwing, head for the tree!" Batman couldn't be sure if his partner had heard him, but the younger man seemed to be trying to fight his way across. When Batman reached the log, he began to claw his way along it. Nightwing's arm snaked out and latched onto a flimsy branch.

"Hang on, Nightwing! I'm coming!" As Batman inched his way closer, the tree began to creak. The smaller, end branches would not hold his weight. Batman reached out. Nightwing had the child in one arm and was clinging to the branch with the other. Bludhaven's hero was coughing violently, trying to expel the water that had entered his lungs. His suit was torn... shredded by the debris that had pummelled him in the swirling waters.

"Take him!" Nightwing managed to get out. He was exhausted. His arms were going numb from the cold, the kelvar suit was in tatters... unable to withstand the assault from nature itself. Nightwing knew he couldn't support the toddler much longer. Batman stretched out further, but the distance was insurmountable.

"I've got you, Batman. Lean out there!" Catwoman thundered as she grabbed onto Batman's belt. Selina's reach gave her partner the extra foot he needed. His fingers closed around the screaming child's shoulder.

"I've got him!" Nightwing released the boy and Batman dragged the terrified toddler to safety. After handing him back to Catwoman, Batman reached out to his flagging partner. He could see that Nightwing's strength was at its end. "Give me your hand."

Nightwing released his right hand and leaned out to Batman. The Dark Knight's fist clamped around Nightwing's proffered arm. Abruptly, the branch that Nightwing had been clinging to snapped. His body jerked away. Batman held onto him, gritting his teeth against the force of the water that was trying to suck the weary man down and whisk him off downstream. "Nightwing!" Batman could feel his partner slipping. Grayson's eyes captured Wayne's. He looked shocked and then his tired face calmed. Bruce. __

"Nightwing!" The exhausted man's fingers slid further. "Nightwing!" Batman strained. Grayson's blue eyes sent a message of thanks to the man who had raised him - heartfelt gratitude for everything they had shared, then a look of farewell and finally a message of love. Bruce willed Dick to pull himself in, but the enervated young man was ripped from his hand by a surge of water. "NOOOOO!" Nightwing went under. "Dick!" Bruce dived into the roaring river, but Catwoman had anticipated the move, her whip encircling Batman's chest and together she and Robin held him back.

"No! Where is he?!" Batman shouted.

"There!" Robin cried. Nightwing resurfaced but went under again almost immediately. Catwoman, Robin and Batman began to make their way back along the log, Selina still cradling the screaming three-year-old close to her chest.

"There!" Catwoman screamed, but once again the water claimed Bludhaven's champion. Nightwing's partners continued to follow the river bank.

"Where'd he go?!" Robin demanded, staring through the lashing rain and wind.

Catwoman and Robin searched the expanse in front of them with desperate eyes. The boiling white water continued to churn and race away, but there was no sign of their companion.

"Catwoman? Batman, where is he?" Robin shrieked as helplessness murdered his control.

"He's gone," Catwoman whispered, her voice so choked with emotion that it was barely recognizable. Batman passed the pair. His wild eyes searched not the water, but the bank. "Find him!" he shouted to the others. "He's a strong swimmer. He would have made it to the bank!"

Catwoman glanced at the man she loved and felt her own heart break. Nightwing had been a strong swimmer alright. It was the only reason he had been able to get out to the bus and stay afloat long enough to rescue the child. But Nightwing was only human. No one could have fought the current for as long as he had and survived.

An hour later, Batgirl and Huntress escorted the family of five to one of the dozens of shelters that had been set up around the city. All were safe and outside of being cold and a little bruised, were healthy. Batman, Robin and Catwoman continued to search the river bank for signs of their missing friend.

Three very long days later, Batman collapsed. He hadn't slept... hadn't eaten... had done anything but search. His kelvar suit was ripped and torn, water seeping though it. He was drenched to the skin and chilled to the bone. Hypothermia claimed him without his consent and so his friends rushed him to hospital praying that Leslie could prevent their team from losing another of its members. Bruce survived, but he developed a raging fever that saw Dr. Thompkins spend the entire night battling to save his life.

Catwoman, Huntress, Batgirl and Robin continued the search for another two days. By the end of that time, they were resigned to the fact that Dick hadn't made it to shore as they had hoped, but rather had been claimed by the river.

"In a couple of weeks, when the water level goes down, we'll probably... " Selina couldn't say it, but they all understood. Once the water level fell, they would probably find their companion's body wedged under a log or rock with so many others who had been claimed by the water.

Three days after collapsing... six days after Dick had been washed away, Bruce returned to his senses and Alfred was forced to explain to his surrogate son that they had lost Dick. Wayne flatly refused to believe it and insisted that his team head out and continue to search. He couldn't believe that they had given up!

Alfred shook his head, the tears that he had been able to control until this point, now cascading down his cheeks. "He's gone, my boy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

VVVVVVVVVV

This is not a deathfic - I promise  
  
PART THREE COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.  


** © JuLY 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	3. Chapter Three

**WHEN HEROES GRIEVE **  
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

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Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.  
  


THIS STORY IS NOT A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.

* * *

**Part Three **

Alfred watched Bruce blink the memory away. His eyes were moist and he shook his head yet again. Wayne just couldn't come to terms with it. "I'm going for a walk," he mumbled.

"Make sure you put on something warm or..." but Bruce had disappeared. Alfred sighed, reached for the two plates on the table and began to clean up. There was no sense fighting Bruce. He wasn't ready to eat.

Some time later, Alfred entered the small stable behind the main house. Bruce was brushing down Alegre, a beautiful black horse with a mind of its own. He had given it to Dick for his fifteenth birthday. Wayne's hand paused as his mind wandered back. He remembered that day - he remembered everything about it. It was all so clear. The party. Leading Dick outside. Watching the boy's eyes pop with wonderment when the stable hand had rounded the corner with the graceful animal. Bruce even remembered when Dick had named the horse, Alegre. It was Spanish for high-spirited. Dick had loved the horse. Despite moving to Bludhaven, he'd made regular trips back to the Manor to see Alegre. Wayne's eyes shut slowly. There was so much he regretted. Why hadn't he taken the time to come out when he knew Dick was here? He couldn't remember the last time they'd ridden together.

The beautiful black horse shifted uncomfortably. It knew something was wrong. The animal swung its head toward the door where it could see the open plain leading back to Gotham. Like Bruce, the horse was looking for Dick to appear out there as he often had in the past.

"I've cut the apple pie," Alfred stated, quietly. "Are you almost finished?"

"Just have to put their blankets on." He didn't have to. The Manor stable hand would be arriving shortly to do it but for some reason it was through the horse, that Bruce had found a connection to Dick. Alfred assisted his friend to prepare the three horses for the night and then the pair headed back to the house.

After Alfred had eaten some pie, the two men turned in for the night. Just as the elderly man was about to turn out the light, he heard footsteps in the hall. He rose and peered out into the darkness. Bruce was standing at the door of Dick's room, his huge frame motionless. Even in the limited light, Alfred could see the silent tears streaming down the strong man's cheeks. Alfred fought the urge to say something. He wanted to put his arms around Bruce as he had when he was a child. He wanted to protect him, but Alfred knew that there was only one path back and Bruce had to find that himself.

It was two o'clock in the morning before Bruce finally went to bed. He lay staring up at the ceiling for hours. When he drifted off, his slumber was restless as the incident... more correctly, Dick's face, kept replaying over and over again in his strangled mind. Dick's hand slipping through his fingers. Dick disappearing under the water. Dick's intense blue eyes sending a message of unconditional love 

At dawn, Alfred rose to discover Wayne's bed empty. The butler's heart ached as he padded across to the window. Bruce was exactly where Alfred expected him to be - crouched in front of the cross that bore Dick's name. Wayne's attention wasn't focused on the small, crude memorial, however. He was staring out at the empty plain that led back to Gotham. Alfred shook his head. He knew that Bruce was clinging to the desperate hope that Dick would miraculously appear and wander up to house with his long relaxed strides and call of, "Howdy, fellas. Just happened to be passin'." It was something of a private joke between the three of them. After Batman had sacked Robin the night that the Joker had almost taken the boy's life, Dick had walked away.... or had been driven away by the perceived rejection. It was immaterial now. In the months that followed, the teenager hadn't made any contact with his family and then one day out of the blue, the outer security alarms had sounded and Alfred and Bruce had spotted their prodigal son walking across the open greens towards the stables. They had met him there and he had mumbled something about the fact that he just _happened _to be passing the Manor and had decided to drop in to see Alegre. That, of course, was absurd as it was impossible to simply be _passing _the Manor. The property was miles out of Gotham at the end of a lonely road that led nowhere else.

Years later, after Bruce and Dick had smoothed their relationship a little, Dick had started using the phrase sarcastically and finally affectionately. He usually parked his bike at the gates and walked across the property. He insisted it was just to stretch his legs after the long ride from New York and more recently Bludhaven, but Alfred knew the real reason why he did it. This was Dick's home. When he came, his visits were usually shorter than he would like. Dick Grayson had loved the Manor. He'd loved the wide open spaces that had been his backyard as a child. He'd loved the fresh air out here, something that one couldn't find in Gotham itself... or in Bludhaven. More than anything else, Dick had loved the peace and quiet of the Manor grounds and so he had developed a habit of walking up from the gate, heading to the stables and only then visiting the house and its occupants. Knowing that the Manor security would have picked up his presence, he would wave in the direction of the house and call out at the top of his lungs, 'Howdy, fellas. Just happened to be passin'. I'll be up shortly.' Then he would disappear into the stables and go riding for anything up to hour before finally reappearing.

Bruce stared out at the open grounds, his mind playing an image of Dick strolling casually toward him. _'Howdy, fellas. Just happened to be passin'._

VVVVVVVVVV

Alfred strode slowly toward the phone, praying it wasn't someone else ringing to convey their sympathies. The words 'I'm sorry,' had never sounded so empty to the elderly man. He knew that was harsh, but sorry didn't take away the pain. Sorry certainly didn't bring Dick back.

"Wayne residence." At first, there was no answer. "Hello?"

"Alf, it's Tim. I... um...." Tim floundered. He didn't know what to say... hadn't known what to say for two weeks.

"How are you, Master Timothy?" Alfred asked, pleased to hear the boy's voice.

"Yeah, I'm good. Well, no... I mean... Alfred, I'm so tired. I can't do it on my own." The admission flooded from him. He hadn't slept for days. The streets of Gotham were out of control and Batman's absence was the talk of the underworld.

Alfred drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. "The others? They are not assisting you?"

"No. Oracle is... she's switched off her computer, Alfred. If feel like I'm working blind out here. I had no idea how much I depended on her. Catwoman has disappeared completely. I spoke to Huntress yesterday but... she's not dealing with all of it. She's really angry and I had to pull her off some guys a couple of nights ago. I hate to think what would have happened if hadn't been there."

"And Miss Cassandra?"

"Needed to get away. She's gone to some spiritual place... don't remember what it was called. I'm on own here and... normally I'd call... but I can't." Tim's voice broke. Normally when things became unbearable, he'd simply call Dick and Nightwing would drop everything and come to stand with him. "God, I miss him so much." So much and on so many different levels. Dick had been more than a brother in arms. Working with Batman was an experience all of its own that couldn't be compared to anything else. However, working with Dick wasn't like working. They had so much fun. No one else would understand that one could have fun while facing some of the most dangerous criminals on the planet, but Dick had understood and they'd enjoyed every moment. "God, I miss him," Tim repeated softly.

Alfred bit down on his own lip to maintain control. "We all do."

Tim wanted to come and visit Bruce and Alfred but like Cassie, Catwoman and Helena he was unable to deal with Bruce at the moment. Had their leader been aggressive and angry, they could have coped, but Bruce was grieving in a way that left the others at a loss. That was why they had kept their distance. It wasn't that they were walking out on their companion, it was just that they needed space to grieve themselves. Dick Grayson had been their friend too. As for Oracle, she was shattered.

Following Nightwing's disappearance it had been Robin who had been left the task of putting the emergency plan into action. Dick Grayson's death needed to be explained to protect the Batclan's secret. Alone, Tim had set things in motion. He reported Dick missing and then pushed his friend's beloved motorcycle into the raging river. Two days later it had been discovered washed up on the bank. Commissioner Gordon had delivered the tragic news to Alfred as Bruce was not receiving visitors. Between them Tim and Alfred had arranged the funeral. A lot of Dick's hero friends were absent, most still trying to help in their home towns. Only Wally, Roy, Donna and Garth had made the trip. The original Titans. Dick's four closest friends whom he'd grown up with. All but Roy had been devastated. Roy Harper had reacted differently. His response was unadulterated rage. Wally, Garth and Donna had restrained him when he had started yelling his grief and questioning where Bruce was. "He's busy, is he? That self-centered, self-righteous bastard, couldn't find the time to come and pay his respects?! Dick loved that mongrel. Even after everything that bastard did to him, Dick still loved him." There had been more. The statements had shocked the large group of mourners. All in all, it had been an ugly scene. However, the words verbalized the thoughts of many. Just why wasn't Bruce Wayne present? Roy's outpouring of emotion had ended only once his energy left him and he had collapsed into the arms of his three oldest freinds. The trio had enfolded him in their love to provide whatever comfort they could. "Why?" Roy had kept sobbing. "Why, Dick?"

"It's never going to be the same again, is it?" Tim whispered.

"No, son, it won't. But it will get better," Alfred assured him.

"How's Bruce?"

Alfred didn't answer immediately. How could he possibly explain in a way someone else would understand? "He's dying inside. He just can't let go." Lines of anguish bit into Alfred's pale face. Too little sleep and too much worry had left dark rings under his eyes.

"He's finally realized how much Dick meant to him, " Tim murmured, his thoughts taking voice.

"Not, finally. He's always known. He just never allowed it to be a conscious thought." How little others knew of Bruce, Alfred reflected. Even Tim didn't truly know the man Batman kept hidden. The only other person who had was Dick... and he was gone.

"I wish he'd told him, Alfred." Tim knew how much it would have meant to Dick just to hear Bruce say those three little words all family long to hear from each other. They weren't that difficult to say and yet, they appeared to be an impossibility for Bruce. "If only he'd... God, I wish he'd told him."

"So does he, young man. So does he," Alfred admitted with great difficulty.

"I guess it will take a long time for him to accept that Dick's gone."

Alfred blinked and a single tear fell onto his cheek, balanced there for several seconds and then tumbled down his face. "I'm not sure he can." For Bruce to admit that Dick was dead would be to admit that his reason for living... as opposed to existing... was gone. If that happened, Alfred knew that Bruce Wayne would curl up and die. Alfred had watched Bruce shut the world out after the death of his parents... and he had watched intrigued as a small boy shattered the shield and infiltrated Bruce's heart. No one else had been able to. Alfred doubted that anyone would ever again.

VVVVVVVVVV

Many miles away....

"Wally? Wally?" Linda asked. The two were sitting together looking into the small creek. Here Wally could almost forget the devastation he'd seen. The world was still recovering, but he had needed a few moments to himself. Then he would return to doing what he could to help all those in need.

"Wally?"

"Huh?" he glanced at Linda. Water was still dripping from her raven hair after their swim.

His wife's deep brown eyes searched his pained face. "You were a million miles away."

Wally stared back at the creek. "Trying to forget... or maybe remember. I don't know."

Linda threaded her arm through his and dropped her head onto the handsome man's shoulder. She loved him with her whole heart and it tore her apart to see him grieving. "You miss him?"

"Yeah, I do. He was my best friend. We spent our childhood together and when my life became a mess, he was the strength I used to get through it." The words were said softly and slowly as he reflected on each and every one.

"I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. I've lost friends and family before, but... there was something about Nightwing that was invincible. His attitude maybe, I don't know. He had an inner strength." Tears welled in Wally's eyes. "I don't know how we're all going to go on without him."

VVVVVVVVVV

In a rundown section of Gotham where the scum of the Earth frequented...

"And that, my dear friends, is gin." The other men at the table all cursed and grumbled as Roy won yet another hand.

"You got the luck of the Irish, mister."

"Yes, lady luck is certainly smiling on me today." The group of card players stood and moved off, leaving Roy and the considerable pot. The Titan stared at the money. The false smile left his lips. He had done nothing but win since he had arrived three days earlier. This was where he'd come after the funeral. There had been a time when a winning streak such as this would have sent him into raptures of happiness. Why then, did he feel nothing but empty? The money, or more importantly, the ability to outmanoeuvre and outthink his opposition didn't seem to mean anything anymore.

Across the room, a man with dark hair stood, made his apologies for having to leave so early and made his way toward the door. Roy shut his eyes. How many times had he seen Dick do the same thing? Grayson was always the first to leave when the gang got together for a night out. He'd had so many commitments and yet he always found time for his friends. Like when he'd dropped everything to travel to the UK to help Roy find his daughter. Dick had always been there for him. Hell, Dick had been one of the people who had helped him seek help when he'd found his life screwed up by drugs. At the time, Roy hadn't appreciated it, but now he truly understood the term 'hard love.' Grayson had refused to give up on him. Roy owed him so much.

Harper shook his head unconsciously. All his life he had searched for a place he belonged and friends he could depend on. It had taken him a long time to realize that he had both with Donna, Dick, Wally and Garth. They were family. No matter what the geographical distance between them, or the time that would elapse between get-togethers, the moment they were together, it was like they'd never been apart. Now, a member of Roy's family was gone and Roy Harper didn't know how to deal with the loss. He honestly hadn't realized how much Dick had meant to him, nor how much pain it would cause him to see Donna grieving. He had found he needed to leave everyone and be on his own - get away and try to drag himself out the void that was swallowing him. Roy had been so certain that a few days of gambling would see his equilibrium return. Then he would be in a position to help his friends deal with their grief. He missed Lian terribly but right now, he needed to get his head right so he could be the father she deserved. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be helping. Maybe he just needed a few more days?

"Mind if I join you?"

Roy opened his eyes. A well dressed man in a silk shirt smiled at the unshaven hero. Instantly, the artificial smile automatically appeared on Harper's face. "Of course my friend. What is your pleasure?"

VVVVVVVVVV

In the ancient Mountains of the Kaowia People...

"You seem deeply troubled," Kojay stated as he and the young woman seeking help walked through the wilderness. Kojay was a Native American. Cassandra had met him many years before... before she had joined Batman's crusade. She had come here to understand her own grief. She didn't know how to articulate it.

"Lost," Cassandra replied. She felt dreadfully lost but didn't know how to put her feelings into words. Her father's strict and atypical parenting style of not allowing her to speak hindered her when it came to expressing herself. "Nightwing was good friend."

"But I thought you believed when your kind die they go to be with your God?" Kojay believed in many Gods but understood that Cassie believed in only one.

"Miss him," she admitted. She accepted that Dick had gone to a better place, but that didn't change the ache she felt.

Kojay nodded. "It is not easy."

"No."

"From what you have told me, he died bravely. He will be rewarded. He was a good man."

Cassie glanced at the grey-haired Indian. "The best."

"Batman. How is he?"

Cassandra stopped walking. "Why?"

Kojay raised each of his hands and then laced the fingers. "Their souls are like this. When one is removed..." Kojay removed his left hand, "the other feels like only half. Only together are they whole. Such soul brothers are rare, but your partners Batman and Nightwing are two of the strongest I have ever heard about. They probably aren't even aware of the connection they share."

"Soul brothers? Father and son."

"Age does not play a part. When souls are connected they are connected and are called soul brothers."

Cassie reflected on the fact that they had shared common tragedies as children. "They the same." She cursed her inability to communicate more effectively.

Kojay nodded gently. He understood what she meant. "Their souls know and understand each other. Now that one soul has moved on, the other must try to cope with only being half of what he is supposed to be."

Cassie stared at the elderly Indian. "How help?"

Kojay sighed. "You can't."

Her eyes pleaded for him to provide her with something... anything she could do to help Bruce.

"He must decide."

"Decide what?"

"Whether to stay and try to go on, or to follow his soul brother and join him in the next world."

Cassandra leaned back against the tree behind her and slowly sank to the ground. For the first time she understood what was going on. Bruce wanted to follow Dick... which meant Cassie was going to lose not only another friend, but her new mentor.

VVVVVVVVVV

This is not a deathfic - I promise  
  
PART FOUR COMING SOON 

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I would really love to know what you thought.  


**© August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	4. Chapter Four

**WHEN HEROES GRIEVE **  
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.  
  


THIS STORY IS NOT A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.

* * *

**Part Four**

Bruce continued to stare at his open palms. His hands had always been good to him. They'd always been strong and trustworthy. Sure he had practiced and trained as a young man, but it hadn't been difficult. His hands had never let him down... until now. He could still feel Dick's fingers in his own - feel him slipping from his grasp. Nightwing hadn't had the strength to fight the water any longer and... Bruce had allowed him to slip away.

Bruce sighed long and deep, his breath shuddering out of him with despair. He was seated on the ground leaning up against the wall of the stable, his legs drawn up close to his chest. Today was worse than all of the ones before. Today, his grief was smothering him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

How could he have let go? Why hadn't Selina let him dive in after Dick? What right did she have to stop him? He should have gone in after Nightwing. Maybe if he had, he could have rescued him. The memory of Dick's face replayed in his strangled mind. The look of shock being replaced by understanding and then love. "Oh, God, Dick. I'm sorry," he whispered in anguish.

Somewhere beyond Bruce's closed world of grieving, he heard the approach of another. Strangely, the outer perimeter alarm hadn't sounded. Glancing up, he instinctively searched for Dick. He couldn't count the number of times Dick would appear walking up from the gate unannounced. His head would appear briefly and then disappear among the long grass due to the uneven ground only to reappear. Then he'd wave and call out, _Howdy, fellas. Just happened to be passin'. Be up shortly._

Bruce strained his eyes, waiting to see a glimpse of the top of Dick's head before it disappeared in a dip. Tragically, the area leading to the gate was empty. Dick wasn't coming.

Glancing to his right, Bruce vaguely noticed a man approaching. Normally he would have risen to meet the visitor, but he didn't. The millionaire was shoeless and shirtless, his hair uncombed, his face unshaven. His mind barely registered the arrival of the caller. He had little awareness of the living world around him. He was caught somewhere between there and limbo, his mind and emotions trapped in a grief-stricken hell of what might have been.

Hugo Strange stopped walking a few feet from the seated man and stared down at the pitiful heap with a genuine smile of triumph.

"Well, well, Wayne. It would appear the rumour is true, in a way. I'd heard that Batman hadn't been seen since the floods. Word is Batman's dead. Not far from the truth by the look of you. We have some unfinished business." Business Strange intended finishing right now. Today, he and Bruce Wayne would face one another and today, Strange would defeat his enemy once and for all and take over in his place. In Hugo Strange's twisted mind, he was the true Batman, something Bruce Wayne had stolen from him. He had long forgotten the fact that he had been a renowned psychiatrist who had researched Gotham's vigilante for the Mayor. He had no memory of profiling Batman to the point that he became obsessed with the man and the legend. Finally, he didn't recall putting the pieces into place to reveal the Dark Knight's secret identity. The only thing Hugo remembered was pulling on the Batman costume he had made with his own hands and staring in the mirror. It was at that very point his mind had snapped. He became the figure that had captivated him and from that moment on, Hugo Strange had spent his life in the pursuit of his goal... and that was to become The Batman.

This fraud at his feet had stolen what was justly his. "Get up and fight me, impostor. Today, you die and I take my rightful place as Batman."

Bruce stared through the other man with empty eyes.

Strange gazed down at the wretched man seated on the ground. Hugo hadn't believed the Dark Knight to be dead, but had heard that Wayne's ward had been killed. Strange knew Bruce Wayne better than he knew himself. The months he had spent, first chronicling Batman and after discovering his identity, studying Bruce Wayne and cataloguing Wayne's life, had provided him with an almost complete understanding of what made this man tick. For example, Hugo understood how difficult it was for the millionaire to share a trusting relationship with others or to express his feelings due to the tragedy in his past. Family was sacred to Wayne, and as Grayson had been pretty much all the family Bruce Wayne had, the young man's death would provide the nail in Bruce's coffin. Wayne had loved the boy more than he was capable of showing. Emotion, in particular, love, was something that Bruce Wayne struggled with and it was this that had caused distance to develop between him and the boy he'd raised. However, Hugo Strange knew that Dick Grayson was the only person Bruce Wayne had allowed to get close.

Strange knew that Grayson's death would weaken his nemesis mentally and emotionally, thus providing the advantage Hugo had always wanted. With Batman's defenses stripped away by his grief, Hugo believed he could be the victor this time. He had tried to kill Wayne in the past, but failed. Bruce was a physically strong man, but Strange felt he was far superior mentally.

Hugo had expected to find Bruce Wayne grieving. Perhaps drunk after turning to alcohol for solace like so many weak-minded people did at such times. Clearly, that wasn't the case. The other man's eyes were clear, but dazed. Hugo found himself intrigued.

"I heard you lost your ward?"

Bruce continued to stare blankly, his mind lost in the endless caverns of grief and denial.

"Can you hear me, Wayne?"Hugo growled. Still Bruce failed to move or show any sign that he was aware he was being spoken to.

Cautiously, Hugo Strange approached the dishevelled man. "Wayne?"

Bruce dragged his eyes from the spot they had been glued to and unexpectedly his attention was drawn to the small white cross a few feet away.

Strange followed the line of his nemesis' gaze. The insane psychiatrist snorted with aversion. Wayne's near catatonic state was indeed a result of losing his former ward. It was exactly the reaction he had predicted. How feebleminded Wayne was. Not worthy of being Batman. Strange flicked his eyes back to Bruce and looked him up and down. "You're pathetic. Can't you see that you don't have the internal fortitude to be Batman? I will make your death swift. Rest assured, Batman will live on and is in good hands."

Hugo withdrew a knife, the blade catching the sun and flashing as it arced through the air on its deadly mission. Bruce Wayne didn't move. Didn't react... didn't care... wasn't really aware. The blade descended toward him but was blocked by the arm of another. Strange leaped back to find himself facing a hooded man who had literally appeared out of nowhere. Hugo recognised him immediately as the assassin Deathstroke.

"Leave," Slade Wilson growled, placing himself between Bruce and Strange.

"This has nothing to do with you, assassin. It is survival of the fittest. The circle of life. It is time for the charlatan to step aside and allow the true Batman to take over the reins. Look at him. He isn't capable of wearing the mask anymore. I am," Hugo pointed out, his face flashing with true insanity.

Deathstroke's single eye narrowed. In the deep crevices of his mind he was able to put a name to the face in front of him - Hugo Strange. When Wilson had infiltrated Titans Tower a number of years before, he had read a file on Strange. The man was insane - obsessed with Batman. Deathstroke remembered reading a footnote Nightwing had written at the bottom of the file... a footnote that would save Hugo Strange's life today. _"Despite knowing Batman's identity, Hugo Strange has never exposed him because for Strange, knowledge is power and to share the knowledge he has would be to lose the advantage he perceives he has over Batman's other enemies.... in his mind he is Batman. It would also shatter the legend itself and Huge Strange's obsession with this very legend ensures his silence."_

"Strange, I'm only going to say this once more. Leave or die," Deathstroke repeated, taking out a gun.

Hugo Strange stared into the eye peering out through the mask. In it he saw cruel and psychotic indifference. It was clear to the former analyst that Deathstroke meant what he said and would kill without thought or remorse.

"You win this round, but I _will be _Batman. _His _mind is gone," Hugo spat with amusement as he turned and strode away.

Deathstroke watched the madman until he disappeared from view. Only then did he turn around to face Bruce Wayne. A frown invaded his face. He had come to pay his respects. He couldn't do so at the formal funeral. Dick Grayson had been a fine adversary and at one time, a dependable ally... not to mention a friend of Slade's son.

"Bruce?" Wilson asked, carefully. They had met on opposites sides of a sword, but never face to face like this.

Behind Bruce, Alegre whinnied softly. Wayne glanced back over his shoulder. "Easy, boy." It was the first sign of life he'd shown.

"Bruce?" Deathstroke repeated. As the assassin studied the lost blue orbs staring through him, he could see that Wayne was a broken man. The person before him was not the warrior he had faced.

Slade Wilson watched as Bruce's dazed eyes were drawn to the small cross and the assassin read the name lovingly carved on the memorial. Deathstroke's hard, emotionless face creased with understanding and what could only be described as wisps of genuine pity. He crouched in front of Bruce, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "You have my sympathies, Bruce. The loss of one's child is debilitating. I know. I have buried both of my sons." Bruce dragged his eyes from the cross and let them settle on the assassin. "Your son did you proud, Bruce Wayne. He was a great warrior. One of the best I have ever had the privilege of knowing." With that, Slade rose to his feet, turned and walked away. He had paid his respects, which had been the point of his trip. He had saved Bruce's life to repay a debt he owed Grayson. While he and Nightwing had not always worked on the same side, he had liked the young man and he had owed Dick his life. Now, that debt was paid in full.

Bruce continued to stare at the spot where Deathstroke had stood. Wayne's heart rate increased until the muscle was thundering in his chest, fuelled by the assassin's words. _The loss of one's child is debilitating. _"My child..." he murmured bewildered. A lump formed in Bruce's throat as his gaze returned to the simple cross. Bruce swallowed as he acknowledged the words were true and for the first time since losing Dick, he used the word. "My...son." The declaration tore at his very soul. Bludhaven may have lost its hero, the Titans their leader and Batman his partner... but Bruce Wayne had lost his _son_.

VVVVVVVVVV

Catwoman stared down on the city below. There was an eeriness in her heart today. A feeling of hopelessness. These same feelings appeared to be echoed by Gotham itself. Gotham had never been a beautiful city, but she was home. She had survived the earthquake against all odds and while the city had physically survived the floods, Catwoman wasn't sure if Gotham would ever return to normal. Good, decent people were afraid, now. They knew their avenging angel wasn't out there. The problem was, every lowlife in the city knew it too. How could one man make such a difference? Catwoman reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek. In Batman's case, one man had been enough. He had created a legend and it was that legend that had kept Gotham from boiling over into a sea of lawlessness.

Behind her, Catwoman heard movement. She didn't turn, monitoring the sound with her well trained senses. If it was some mugger or rapist, they were in for a surprise

"It's me," a woman's voice reassured.

Catwoman sighed. "Huntress."

The other approached and stopped beside the lone figure. "Have you heard from him?"

"No," Catwoman snarled. Her anger rose. She felt like she'd been palmed aside by Batman. Cast adrift like unwanted garbage.

"He's disappeared and all hell has broken loose. We need help."

"Why are you telling me? I don't know how to contact him. Ask the kid or that Oracle. Or Superman. Hell, ask Santa Claus, he'd know more about it than I do."

Huntress stared at the other woman and she saw something she had never consciously seen before. "Men like him don't know how to express their feelings," Helena whispered. Selina's cheek twitched, but she didn't comment. "He's a warrior, Catwoman. He can't react the way normal people do." Helena's gaze was drawn to the cloudless sky and her thoughts to Batman. "It seems to me that when heroes grieve, they do it silently and completely alone."

Selina knew the other woman was right. Batman was grieving. He'd shut everyone out... even Robin.

"I want to help him, but I don't know how if he won't let me," Catwoman whispered.

Huntress nodded. "I've lost loved ones, Catwoman, so I know what it's like. At some stage, you just reach a point where things don't seem so bad. It still hurts, but you feel like you can finally see yourself going on. He will too."

"I hope you're right," Selina whispered.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

"What?" Catwoman cried, spinning around to face Huntress.

Helena smiled gently. "I've seen the way you look at him. Relax. Men don't notice those things. Only women do."

"Huntress..."

"Your secret is safe with me. Give him time. He's a strong man. He'll come through this."

"I'm not so sure he will," Catwoman disagreed. She had seen the despair and anguish in his eyes as he had searched for Nightwing. She'd seen and felt it to her core. The loss of the other man had been literally tearing Batman apart.

"You mustn't lose faith, Catwoman."

The thief turned vigilante returned to studying the gloomy streets below. Others viewed Batman as little more than a hard, emotionless, obsessed warrior. She knew better. She knew that Nightwing's loss was forcing Batman to relive the loss of past loved ones. People like the second boy to wear the Robin costume. The boy killed by The Joker. She knew how much that had affected him. Batman had once told her that he had been orphaned young, actually witnessing the death of his parents. Catwoman also knew that Nightwing had been far more than just a comrade in arms. When she had first met him, he had worn the yellow cape - the first Robin. Part of the dynamic duo. While she couldn't be certain if Nightwing had indeed been Batman's son, she suspected it was so. The Dark Knight's family had been stolen from him when he was child... now it was happening again. How could anyone possibly be expected to 'come through' that?

Catwoman turned to comment, but she paused, spotting in the other woman's face her own mix of emotions. "You were in love with Nightwing?"

Helena turned away. "No."

Catwoman placed her hand on her companion's shoulder and guided her around so they were facing.

"I've seen the way you look at him. Relax. Men don't notice those things. Only women do." She smiled gently.

Huntress swallowed. "It's different to what you think. I... I did love him, but his heart belonged to another."

"Oracle?" Catwoman guessed. She had heard Nightwing and the mysterious woman arguing and flirting over the communicator.

Huntress nodded. Catwoman sighed. "It appears we share more in common than we first thought."

"You mean, Batman isn't in love with you?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I think he is. Unfortunately, his heart belongs to another," she replied wistfully.

"Who?" Huntress asked.

Catwoman looked back over the streets of Gotham. "Her."

This is not a deathfic - I promise  
  
PART FIVE COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.  


**© August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	5. Chapter Five

**WHEN HEROES GRIEVE **  
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.  
  


THIS STORY IS NOT A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.... _Special thank to Esther-Channah and M2 who I haven't been able to contact. Thank you for your great and detailed feedback and constructive comments. _

* * *

**Part Five**

Donna gripped the tissue tightly and dabbed her red, swollen eyes. Starfire slid her arm across her friend's shoulders and then turned the page of the huge photo album that was laying across their legs.

Both women smiled down at the pictures. The first was of Roy and Dick wrestling on the floor of Wally's apartment. The second was of Dick holding Roy in a headlock and smiling widely at the camera. The third was of Dick flying though the air and Roy laughing.

Donna sighed. "That was Wally's birthday last year," she explained.

Kory nodded, her attention focused on Dick's face. She had loved him - almost married him. Fate had been against them, but that didn't change how much she cared. She had fallen for him the first moment she'd laid eyes on him. She'd never stopped loving him.

Donna's feelings for Dick were different. He was her brother... it was as simple as that. Blood didn't play a part; it didn't need to. Whenever she had needed him, he'd been there. He'd given her away at her wedding. He'd stood with her when Terry had taken custody of their child. He'd turned up on the doorstep when she and Roy had broken up. Of course, she'd always been there for him too. Their friendship had been so easy. Neither had made demands on the other. Neither had had any expectations. They had simply loved each other for who they were... and now, he was gone. The one person she had always been able to turn to when there was no one else, swept away while she had been saving the lives of millions of faceless strangers.

Donna's tears began to fall again, finally turning into heart-wrenching sobs. Kory picked up the photo album and placed it on the coffee table in front of them and then wrapped her arms around Donna and held her. Together they cried, morning the loss of someone who had meant so much to both of them.

VVVVVVVVVV

"Oracle? Are you there?" Tim's voice echoed in the silent, pitched black bunker. This particular room hadn't been silent or dark for years. The state of the art computer and satellite equipment that littered one wall were ominously blank.

"Oracle? Come on, Barbara, please. I need help. I'm on my own out here... well, expect for Huntress and I've got to say, I'm not sure if she's a help or a hindrance," Tim stated, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Barbara Gordon kept her eyes closed, kneading her laced fingers lying in her lap. She could hear the desperation in Robin's voice but she just couldn't bring herself to 'get back on the horse'. What was the purpose? What had any of it achieved? The loss of her legs. The death of Dick. None of it made sense.

"Oracle?... Oracle? Look, I can understand that you miss him. God, I do too, but you can't give up. He wouldn't have. He didn't, Barbara."

Tears began to stream from the emerald eyes of the former Batgirl. The agony she felt was the worst she could ever remember. She had actually believed that the pain of losing the use of her legs could not be surpassed, but she'd been wrong. That had been self-pity and physical pain - this was altogether different. This was bewilderment and disbelief amalgamated into a torture she couldn't describe.

"Oracle, he died trying to save this city. If we don't do something, it will all be for nothing," Tim spat. The anger in his voice was palpable. "We can't let that happen. We just can't!"

The words entered Barbara's mind and bounced around for a few seconds. She raised her tear-stained face and wheeled herself across to the computer. For several moments she stared at her own reflection in the dark monitor. Then, she hit a single key and the entire work station sprang to life. Her fingers came to rest on the keyboard and with a few touches, Robin's distressed face appeared in front of her. His eyes grew wide and then a smile of sheer relief blanketed his tired features.

"Hey, Oracle."

"What do you need, Robin?"

"I need a list of Arkham residents that haven't been recaptured. I need to know the areas that the police are struggling to maintain control of and I need some physical help. I don't know who to call? Azrael has fallen off the face of the Earth and everyone else is busy helping out elsewhere."

"Arsenal is still in town," Barbara informed him, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. "List of those still loose from Arkham. "Pamela Isley, Jonathon Crane, Edward Nygma, Roman Sionis and The Joker."

"Great. So, Roy is still here? Where do I find him?"

"I don't know. I'm tapping into the Titans' computer to see if he is wearing a homer."

"Thanks, Oracle. I... I don't know what I'd have done without you."

Barbara swallowed and blinked, a single tear rolling down her cheek. That was the purpose... her reason for going on. She could still make a difference. From now on, she would make a difference for Dick as well. "Thanks, Tim. I... Okay, I've got a location on Arsenal."

"Give it to me."

VVVVVVVVVV

Back in Scumville....

"So where are you from?" a scruffy looking man asked as he dealt the cards in the seedy back room of the drinking house.

Roy glanced up at the speaker and snapped irritably, "Does it matter?"

"Just making conversation, friend."

"Sorry. Haven't been myself lately. At present, I am staying in Gotham."

"Shit hole, isn't it? Did you hear that Batman's disappeared? Hope the bastard's dead."

Roy nodded. "Yeah." His mind wandered. For the life of him he couldn't understand Dick's continued loyalty to Batman. Roy knew what it was like to be a man's ward and junior partner, but Ollie hadn't been anything like Bruce Wayne. Ollie hadn't sacked him and replaced him with someone else. Ollie hadn't shut him out of his life. Sure, Ollie had been far from perfect and they'd had their problems, but Ollie had never put him through the sort of emotional hell Bruce had put Dick though. Ollie knew he'd made mistakes and admitted them. Bruce Wayne was such a self-righteous bastard. Everything for the greater good and nothing for Dick.

Roy's anger began to boil again. Someone needed to tell Bruce Wayne what a mongrel he was. The idea took root. For Dick, Roy would do so. He would go and stand toe to toe with Batman and tell him what a sorry excuse for a human being he was. He would tell him how much pain and anguish he had put Dick through and then he would slam his fist into the middle of the sanctimonious bastard's face. Quite suddenly, Roy felt a certain amount of clarity... something he had been struggling to find.

"Mister? Hey, mister."

"Sorry," Roy apologised. He stared down at his cards and turned them over. He had something he needed to do.

"Leaving so soon?"

"Yeah," Roy muttered, rising to his feet.

"Hey, I heard one of them bat-heroes drowned in the floods. The fool jumped into..."

Roy dived at the speaker, his hands encircling the other's throat before he knew what he was doing. His rage exploded as he bellowed, "That fool gave his life for a child!"

"Hey, settle down," one of the other men cried.

"I'm sorry," Roy's victim squeaked. "Let go!"

"Roy!" a voice thundered from across the room.

Harper didn't turn. He continued to glared into the face of the man who had insulted Dick. "That fool," Roy whispered emotionally, "was one of my best friends."

"Roy," Tim repeated, darting across the room and laying his hand on the enraged man's arm. With great effort, Harper dragged his eyes from the squirming idiot who's face was gradually going blue. "Roy," Tim repeated with an encouraging nod.

Harper stared at the boy and then shoved the other man away. His victim crashed down into his seat and began greedily dragging oxygen into his lungs.

"What are you doing here, Kid?" Roy demanded, stepping away from the table.

"I need your help."

Harper shook his head. "Sorry, Kid. I've got something I need to do." Something he should have done a long time ago.

"Dick told me that if I ever got into trouble and I couldn't find him, I should call you. He said I could depend on you."

"That's nice, Tim," Roy dismissed sarcastically, "but like I said, I've got something I have to do." Roy Harper started for the door.

"Gold pen call," Tim called after him.

Roy froze, every muscle in his body seizing up. For several seconds he didn't move. Tim licked his lips, unsure of what he had unleashed. Gradually Roy turned, his face ruddy with surprise. "What did you say?" he whispered, his eyes wide with shock.

Tim swallowed and walked toward him. "Gold pen call. Dick told me if I was really in trouble and I needed your or Wally's help, all I had to say was 'Gold pen call', and you'd come immediately."

Roy continued to stare at the dark-haired teenager as he tried to assimilate the information. Haltingly, he nodded. "Gold pen," he muttered. He blinked several times. Strangely, his face gradually relaxed and he smiled at Tim, repeating with great affection, "Gold pen call. Well what do you know?" Roy reached out and laid his hand on the teenager's shoulder. "Okay, Kid, I'm all yours. Looks like that other business will have to wait if this is a gold pen call." This time he chuckled. "I've got my costume and gear at my hotel. We'll need to swing by there so I can change... you can change there as well, unless Robin is patrolling in jeans and t-shirt these days."

Tim's face flooded with relief. "Thanks, Roy."

Harper smiled. "Gold pen call," he muttered, emotionally.

"You okay?"

Roy blinked, nodded, winked at Tim and together they headed for the door.

VVVVVVVVVV

Alfred stood at the door of the mansion gazing across at Wayne. The other man had literally sat in the one spot all day. Alfred had taken food out to him, but he could see that it was still on the ground where he'd placed it.

Pennyworth shook his head with growing concern and headed toward the garage. Bruce had to start eating. It was no longer a simple matter of him not wanting to. He would make himself ill if this continued any longer. Alfred set his shoulders and promised himself that Bruce would eat a meal tonight... even if Alfred had to force-feed it to him!

The butler had some errands to run and despite not wanting to leave Bruce, he had no choice. Life needed to go on and bills needed to be paid.

Bruce noted the Rolls driving toward the gate. As he watched it disappear, the mist that had been clouding his usually alert mind lifted. He stared around himself and sighed. Where had the day gone? Stiffly he pulled himself to his feet, his legs aching from inactivity. In the back of his mind, he catalogued the fact that he needed to thank Slade Wilson... not for saving his life, but for reminding him of just what he'd had... and lost.

Bruce walked across to the cross and focused on it. His heart felt so dreadfully heavy. "I made a mess of it all, Dick. I'm sorry." He would give anything to have five minutes with his son. Just five minutes. Hell, one minute. One minute to tell his boy what he should have told him a hundred times before... before it was too late.

The chill on the air cut through the flimsy shirt Bruce wore. Realizing he needed to chop more wood for the night, Bruce moved toward the woodpile. He lifted the axe and let it slam into a crude log. The action was slow and lethargic, more automatic than anything else. The millionaire flexed his shoulders uncomfortably. Chips of wood spat out at him as he chopped, cutting his bare feet. His filthy shirt and matted hair clung to his body. His huge hands, which had failed him, felt useless. Nothing felt as it should.

The sun began to set on the day, casting long shadows across the stables. The horses, which had been corralled all day for the first time ever, began to move restlessly and call for their evening meal. Alfred had told the stable hand to take a few days off. Bruce knew it was because his old friend didn't want others to see him in this state. Bruce, however, didn't care. Nothing mattered any more. He wanted it to, but he couldn't lie to himself. Life itself had lost its meaning.

Wayne paused and wiped his hands of the perspiration that was making the axe slippery. As he did so, he despondently scanned the uneven area leading back to Gotham.

"What the..." Wayne's eyes narrowed. Just for a split second he thought he'd seen movement out there. The millionaire blinked, his brow furrowing as he strained to focus on the approximate area. There! The top of a man's head. The head flashed above the grass briefly. Bruce felt his chest tighten. It wasn't. It couldn't be... could it? His heart began to pound. Bruce dropped the axe and walked in the direction of the image he was sure he'd seen.

The top of the head appeared and disappeared again among the shadows of sunset.

Bruce increased his pace, staring frantically at the place where he was certain the man would rematerialize. Long seconds passed. His soul screamed. Bruce waited, his strides shortening. There was no sign of the person. _Come on! Come on!! Please!_

Nothing.

Wayne stopped walking. The pain he felt was worse than any physical injury he had ever sustained. For a split second all he had ever wanted had been presented and then stolen again mercilessly. There hadn't been anyone, he decided. It was just his mind casting the image he so desperately wanted - needed to see. Dick was gone. Just like his parents were gone... and Bruce was alone again. The claustrophobic realization was unbearable. His very soul felt like it was being torn from him... and perhaps that was exactly what had happened when Dick had been wrenched from his fingers.

Wayne squeezed his eyes shut tightly and fought to regain control of his faculties. Was he going out of his mind? Perhaps this was his punishment. A punishment he agreed he deserved. He had let Dick down... not just by his failure to pull his son to safety. He had let him down on a number of other levels too.

Taking a long, deep shaking breath, Bruce opened his eyes... and gasped! There was a man walking toward him some one hundred feet away. The millionaire couldn't make out the other's face at the distance and he didn't recognize the clothes, but Bruce Wayne would know that gait anywhere!

"Dick?" A hoarse whisper. Before Wayne knew it, he was moving. Walking swiftly... jogging... running! The cloaked figure continued to walk - forcing one foot in front of the other with conscious effort.

As the distance between them diminished, the visitor's face came into focus 

_It is Dick! God, it's him! He's alive!_

  
  


This is not a deathfic - I promise  
  
PART FIVE COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.  


**© August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	6. Chapter Six

**WHEN HEROES GRIEVE **  
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.  
  


THIS STORY IS NOT A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.... _Apologies for not having replied to feedback for chapter five. I will do so this week. _

* * *

**Part Six**

It is Dick! God, it's him! He's alive!

Grayson's eyes were down, concentrating on each footfall. When the two men were ten feet apart, Dick's head came up. He froze. Bruce, too, came to an abrupt halt. The pair stared at each other equally shocked.

"Dick?" Logic told Bruce that he couldn't possibly be seeing what he thought he was. The fading sun gave Dick an unearthly appearance and left Bruce questioning his senses.

Gradually, a relieved, lop-sided grin appeared on Grayson's exhausted face. "Howdy, Bruce. Just happened to be passin'."

The words catapulted Wayne back to awareness. He leapt forward and grabbed each of younger man's shoulders. "YOU'RE ALIVE!" Bruce's body began trembling uncontrollably as a multitude of emotions fought for supremacy.

"If this is alive, I'd gladly trade if for something else."

Wayne didn't hear the strained and hushed words. He was drowning in his ability to comprehend what he was seeing, hearing and feeling. His hands squeezed each of Dick's shoulders firmly as he tried to confirm that this wasn't some sort of trick. "You're alive!" Bruce grabbed his boy and wrapped him up in his arms, oblivious to the cry of pain that came from Grayson. "My God, you're alive. Thank God!"

Dick said nothing. He just stood there dazed, his arms hanging at his sides. Wayne pushed the younger man away. "Christ, Dick! Where have you been?! What happened?!"

Grayson blinked and stared at Wayne in confusion. "Bruce, I..." It was then that Bruce actually saw his son. Dick reached up to rub his dull blue eyes, grimacing as his hand briefly connected with the dreadful purple and green bruising covering the left side of his face. The ugly bags under his eyes were of Grand Canyon proportion and stood out in stark contract to the horrible grey of his skin tone. "I... Bruce?" Dick muttered bewildered as he reached out and grabbed Wayne's arm to confirm he wasn't looking at a mirage. As he did so, the brown cloak that had been covering the clothes that were hanging on him like a sack, dropped from his shoulder, dragging the shirt with it. The kaleidoscope of cruel bruising that was revealed caused Bruce to draw breath sharply.

"My God." Concern pushed the shock aside. Wayne automatically fell into that timeworn pattern of removing himself from the situation. Just the facts. No emotion. He wouldn't be able to function if he allowed one percent of what he was feeling at the moment to dictate his actions. "Let's get you inside."

"Bruce... I... I haven't slept in days," the exhausted young man slurred. His body shuddered. Dick realized he shouldn't have stopped walking. Now, he would never convince his legs to move again.

"You look terrible," Bruce commented, raising his hand to test Dick's brow for fever.

"Was just thinkin' the same thing about you," the younger man muttered.

Dick felt clammy to touch and his dazed expression advertised that he was only half aware of what was happening.

"Come on," Bruce urged. The pair turned and shoulder to shoulder strode toward the house. Dick stumbled, struggling to maintain his footing as his body set about shutting down. Without a word, Bruce put his hand around his companion's back and threaded Dick's arm over his shoulder. A low moan echoed from Dick and he winced, so Bruce readjusted his hold to make it more comfortable.

"Easy," he encouraged. Wayne could hear the wheezing of Dick's lungs and the quiet grunts of discomfort forced from him with each step. The closer to the house they got, the more Bruce found himself supporting his charge.

"How sick are you?" Wayne demanded.

"Huh? Sick? No, I'm okay." Dick glanced at Bruce and noting the look of disbelief, added "Really, I'm okay. I was... sick, but... I'm okay... now. Just tired. Haven't slept... in three days." Whatever energy he had was rapidly deserting him. His need to push himself on was gone. Dick began blinking. His body was shutting down. Sleep deprivation and exposure were pooling and making it impossible for him to think straight. But none of that changed the fact that... "I made it," he whispered.

"You made it," Bruce confirmed as they entered the house. For a split second, Wayne contemplated taking Dick to the lounge room but he decided to get him upstairs to bed. "Up the stairs."

Dick eyed the staircase and a broad grin spread across his weary face. "You've got to be kiddin'."

"Come on," Bruce ordered. They got about halfway before Dick's legs inevitably buckled under him. Bruce caught him and steadied him, the action evoking a cry of pain from the injured man. "Sorry, Dick. Just a few more steps. Come on, Kid. We can do it."

Dick consciously gathered his energy into his legs and pushed on. By the time the pair reached the top, Bruce was all but carrying Dick. He guided the precious bundle in his arms toward a bedroom and assisted Dick to sit down, before crouching in front of the panting man.

Dick blinked and swallowed. "Bruce, I..."

"Don't talk. I'm going to call Leslie. Is there anything she needs to know? You need to tell me what you know about your condition."

"Ummm... I... huh?" He looked so confused... and so ill.

Bruce squeezed Dick's shoulder. "It's okay." Silently, he berated himself. What the hell was he thinking? Dick was barely conscious and he was asking for a condition report! "You need to rest."

"Thanks. I haven't ... slept in... three days." Dick bent to remove his boots, but the effort caused him to lose his balance. Wayne grabbed and righted him and then crouched and dragged the worn old boots off. "Thanks, Bruce. I haven't slept in... ages."

Bruce glanced up into Dick's dazed eyes. He truly wasn't aware of what he was saying. "Come on. Lay back," Bruce coaxed gently.

Dick nodded. "Real tired, Bruce. Sorry. Tell you... everything... later. Haven't slept for..."

"Don't try to speak. Just lay back and go to sleep."

Dick literally fell backwards onto the pillow. Bruce caught him and lowered him the final few inches. Spotting Bruce hovering above him, Dick mumbled, "Bruce... so I made it?"

"Yeah, you made it," Bruce assured the exhausted man as he began to make him more comfortable. He pulled the cloak free and began to unbutton Dick's shirt. As he pulled it apart, Bruce's battle to remain separated from the situation shattered. The injuries that greeted him were horrific. There was a puncture wound high in his chest that had been crudely stitched. The wound itself was probably a result of a rib that had broken and torn through the skin. Dick looked like he'd been beaten within an inch of his life, his skin a patchwork of purple, green and blue.

"God, Dick."

"Are Robin and the others okay?" Grayson asked, as Bruce lifted him so he could remove the old shirt. Carefully Wayne peeled it off, his face revealing how appalled he was by the boy's condition. "They're okay?" Dick repeated.

"We're all fine." As Bruce gently laid Dick down, he again checked the injured man's temperature. He was warm. Clearly the exertion was bringing on a fever.

Dick's heavy-lidded eyes opened fully. "The little girl! I left her!"

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed and patted his agitated son's arm in an effort to calm him. "She's fine. Cassie went out there and got her. We saved them all." Wayne plucked his cell phone from his pocket and punched in Leslie's number.

Dick started blinking again as he desperately fought against his body's insistent demands to shut down.

"Go to sleep," Bruce coaxed, picking up Dick's hand. He held it firmly, his emotions building. Grayson gripped the hand and his dazed eyes shifted to Wayne's face. "It's okay. It's going to be fine, son."

"Bruce... I'm sorry."

"Don't talk," Wayne ordered again. He squeezed the hand he held and nodded encouragement. "Close your eyes and rest. I'm calling Leslie." As he said the words, he was diverted to Leslie's answering machine. "Damn," he snapped, thrusting the phone back into his pocket.

"Huh?"

Bruce patted his boy's arm. "It'll be okay," he whispered. Their eyes locked together and Bruce again nodded. "It's okay."

"I'm so tired," Dick mumbled.

Wayne's lips creased with a half grin as he allowed some of the emotion he felt to surface. "Yeah, I noticed, chum."

"Chum?" Dick sat bolt upright, crying out in pain and reaching for his ribs as he did so. "Bruce, I made it home!"

Bruce gripped Dick's shoulder and carefully eased him back. "Easy, son. Easy." Grayson began to struggle trying to get up. Bruce held him firmly. "Dick, look at me." Dazed blue eyes met bright focussed ones. "You made it home and everyone's safe. You need to rest."

Grayson allowed Bruce to lay him back. He reached a trembling hand up and placed it on his former guardian's arm looking at him as if noticing him for the first time. _Bruce, you okay? _Despite the fatigue that masked his face, his concern for the man who had raised him shone like a beacon.

"I'm fine. Close your eyes."

"You diveinafterme?" The words tumbled into each other and it took a while for Bruce to decipher the question.

"Started to, but Catwoman pulled me back."

"Knew you would." Dick blinked and his face twisted with anxiety. "You... look like hell, Bruce."

"Now that's the pot calling the kettle black." Bruce forced a grin, but his worry was rising. Dick wasn't coherent. His thoughts were almost random. Wayne couldn't be sure if it was a result of fatigue or brain injury.

Grayson grinned. He could read Bruce like a book despite not being fully lucid. "I'm okay. I was sick. Hell spat me back. The devil himself wasn't prepared to take on your wrath."

Bruce swallowed. "Thank, God," he whispered. The need to hold his son overwhelmed him. "Dick..."

Grayson sighed deeply and smiled wearily. Bruce returned his boy's smile. His heart was galloping - a combination of concern and relief.

"Wasn't sure... if I would... make it," Dick attempted to explain.

"Enough."

Dick swallowed and nodded. Again, he began blinking. "Gotta sleep, Bruce. Tell you... later. Can't... think straight..." Dick's eyelids crashed, his body shuddered and his arm slipped from Bruce's arm. In that instant, he was sound asleep. His chest began to rise and fall evenly.

Wayne stared at his boy. He was alive! He was in a hell of a state, but he was alive. Gently, Wayne reached for Dick's arm and placed it on the bed. He had asked for one minute - by some miracle he had been given a second chance. "Dick, I..." A lump the size of a fist formed in his throat. Again he was overcome with the need to hold his son; however, that wasn't what Dick needed. His boy needed a doctor. Bruce pulled his phone out again and this time rang the hospital. As he did so, he considered an ambulance, but there would be too many questions and at the moment Bruce didn't have any answers. Dick Grayson and Nightwing could not reappear at the same time.

As the thought crossed his mind, Bruce began to reprimand himself again. Was his secret identity more important than Dick's health? No, it wasn't. It was the first time Bruce had ever thought of it in those terms. Protecting Batman and all he stood for had been more significant than any one individual in Bruce's mind… until now. The last ten days had shown him in no uncertain terms that he could survive without Batman… and that Gotham could survive without the Dark Knight, but Bruce Wayne had realized that life was all but unbearable without his family. Over the years he and Dick had drifted apart, argued and even come to blows, but none of that changed the fact that Bruce loved his son.

The phone rang in Wayne's ear. When it was answered, Bruce first asked if Dr. Leslie Thompkins was in attendance.

"Yes, sir, she is, but she is in surgery at the moment. May I take a message?"

Bruce frowned. "I need to speak to her immediately."

"That isn't possible. We have several doctors here who..."

"NO! I must speak with Leslie!" The volume of his voice caused Dick to stir. Bruce reached out to his boy and patted his arm. "Easy, son."

Grayson muttered something but didn't truly wake. Bruce returned to his call. "Look, it is absolutely essential that I speak with Dr. Thompkins. Please..." Wayne continued to plead his case, his temper gradually rising.

VVVVVVVVVV

Bruce shifted a heater into Dick's room. The air was gradually cooling with the coming of evening. He glanced up at the clock. It was only one minute after the last time he had looked. Time had a habit of passing slowly when one was in a rush and quickly when one needed more time. Wayne had convinced the nurse at the hospital to speak to Leslie the moment she came out of surgery. The woman had assured him it would be no more than fifteen minutes and Bruce had agreed. Dick was resting comfortably, so the extra minutes shouldn't threaten the injured man's condition.

Dick. Wayne turned and stared. Where the hell had Dick been for the last ten days? Sick obviously. Really sick, by the look of him. Bruce waited for Dick's chest to rise and fall. There was no movement. Wayne's eyes narrowed. In two steps he made it to the bed. Relieved, he noted Dick's ribcage rise. The injured man's breathing was slow and even, though there was a wheezing sound coming from Dick's lungs, remnants of whatever illness he had suffered.

Am I just dreaming all of this? Overcome with terror, Bruce crouched down beside the bed and tentatively reached for Dick's clenched fingers. The millionaire's large hand encircled Grayson's calloused fist. Dick stirred. His eyelids flickered and parted a quarter of an inch.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"Bruce?"

"Shh."

"I made it?" he asked dazed.

"Yeah, you made it."

"The others okay?" Dick began blinking as fatigue urged him back to oblivion.

"Everyone's fine."

Grayson's eyes shot open. "The little girl?!"

Bruce reached for his shoulder. "Settle down. She's safe."

"I left her."

"Cassie got her."

"Thank, God... are you okay? You... look like... shit."

"Look in a mirror lately?"

Dick sighed and grinned. "I've got an excuse. I haven't slept... for days."

"How do you feel?"

"'About as... good as... you look." He was losing the battle to stay awake.

"Don't fight it, son. Are you thirsty?"

Dick shook his head. "No. Could use... a drink, though." Wayne grinned as relief swept over him. It wasn't brain injury he decided. Complete exhaustion was stealing Dick's ability to fully comprehending what was being said to him.

Bruce released his boy's hand and moved off to collect a glass of water. By the time he returned, Dick was sound asleep. Bruce placed the glass on the small table and then sat down in the chair beside the bed. He felt at ease.... worried on one level for it was clear his boy had been through a lot... but also at ease. He didn't know what had happened to Dick, but that wasn't important. Dick was home. That was all that mattered. For the first time in days, Bruce felt certain that everything was going to be alright. He'd sent a text message to Robin. "Come to Manor, now. Need your help." Hugo Strange may decide to make a return visit and while Strange alone wasn't a concern, Bruce couldn't be certain that he wouldn't hire some help. Wayne had no intention of taking any risks with Dick's life. An over-reaction it may be, but Bruce was beyond thinking of anything but his injured son.

Wayne's stomach rumbled. He felt hungry - famished, in fact. When was the last time he had eaten? _Days ago. _Cassiehad sent some apple pie, hadn't she? Bruce patted Dick's arm and rose to his feet, his eyes flicking to the clock. The nurse had another seven minutes before Bruce Wayne went on the warpath.

"Dick, I want to start the fire downstairs." The fire would help to warm the air in the chilly house. Dick couldn't afford to be cold. "I won't be a minute." Wayne was fairly certain that Dick couldn't hear him but he didn't want to take any chances.

VVVVVVVVVV

Arsenal followed Robin across the rooftops. The teenager was agile but lacked the fluidity Roy was used to seeing from 'Robin'. Grayson had been an acrobat without peer...Grayson had been the most incredible man Roy had ever known. Cries from below drew Roy's attention. Gotham was out of control. Batman's apparent death had been a red flag to a bull for every criminal in the city.

"According to Oracle, we're only about..." The beeping of Robin's communicator distracted him. Arsenal welcomed the pause. Tim was setting a rapid pace and leaping from building to building was not something Roy enjoyed. Arsenal glanced down at his watch and shook his head. He honestly didn't know how Tim and Dick did it. Work all day and then work all night.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arsenal caught sight of Robin's face, the limited light from the street lamps below illuminating it. The teenager was staring wide-eyed down at the words that had appeared in the screen of his small communicator.

"Something wrong?" Roy asked.

Tim lifted his face and handed the communicator to Roy.

Arsenal shrugged. "So the big black bat needs help. What of it?"

Robin blinked as he tried to assimilate the message. "He doesn't usually... I mean... Usually I just get orders. 'Report to the Manor, now'. That sort of thing. It isn't like him to..."

"Kid, I'm happy to help _you_, but if you think I'm going to submit to listening to any of the self-righteous garbage that comes out of Batman's mouth..."

"No, Roy. Please," Tim pleaded. "Something must be wrong. Really wrong if he's admitting that he needs help."

Arsenal studied the younger man's eyes. His anger began to boil again as an image of Dick's face appeared in his mind. Dick looking distressed and trying to hide it from his friends, but he never could. Not from Wally, Donna and Roy. They knew him too well. There had been times when Roy had seen Dick on an emotional roller-coaster because of something Batman had said or done... like replacing him with a younger child. How could anyone be so cold-hearted? Bruce had replaced Dick both as his partner and as his son. It was the latter that had hurt Dick and left Roy fighting for control... control had never been Roy's closest friend. In that instant, Roy's rage morphed into hatred.

"Alright, kid. Looks like I get to take care of my _business _sooner rather than later."

This is not a deathfic - I promise  
  
PART SEVEN COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.  


**© August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	7. Chapter Seven

** WHEN HEROES GRIEVE  **  
  


__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.  
  


THIS STORY IS  NOT  A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.... _ I want to thank Bessie 1 and Shaindl who I haven't been able to send thanks to because I don't have their e-mail addresses._

* * *

** Part Seven**

Alfred's brow furrowed as he drove up the long driveway to the Manor. There was a glow coming from it and smoke lifting from the chimney. Pennyworth was surprised, but it was a great relief. Every night since Dick's disappearance, Alfred had found Bruce sitting in the dark at the cross, unaware of the temperature - oblivious to the fact that he was freezing.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred called as he closed the door behind himself. The elderly man walked into the kitchen, noting the light was on and saw the apple pie sitting on the bench. Bruce had eaten! A large, well stacked fire was crackling in the fireplace too. Pennyworth's face lit up with a smile from his soul. Somehow, Bruce had located the path back from the abyss of grief and it looked like he was starting on the return journey.

"Master Bruce?"

"Alfred?" The butler moved back into the entrance hall and spotted his employer at the top of the stairs. Bruce insistently beckoned Alfred up the stairs, all the while growling into the cell phone he had clutched to his ear. "Look, you said fifteen minutes. It's been fifteen minutes..."

Alfred approached Wayne. Bruce pointed to the room beyond. "You don't seem to understand how...."

Alfred climbed the last few steps perplexed. He could see the soft glow of the heater in the room. As he stepped up to the door, he noted the buddle under a dozen blankets. For a split second Alfred allowed himself to think that maybe... but he dismissed such a thought. Miracles didn't happen to ordinary people. He entered the room and stopped beside the bed, peering down on the face of the person that Bruce had wrapped so tightly in blankets.

"Master Dick!"

Bruce shot into the room. "Shh. Let him sleep." Bruce returned to his call. "... I don't care... Dr. Thompkins must..."

Alfred Pennyworth saw everything with absolute clarity. He spun around and wrenched the phone from Bruce.

"Good evening. Your name please?... Nurse Devin. My name is Alfred Pennyworth. I wish to speak to Dr. Thompkins... My dear, I am old, tired and not easily impressed. I don't care if Dr. Thompkins is in surgery operating on the Pope, Queen of England and President of the United States all at the same time! I have a message that must be presented to her without delay. Failure to do so will not only precipitate my need to visit the hospital personally, something that would be most unpleasant for all concerned, but I am prepared to guarantee that Dr. Thompkins will have your job for even the slightest postponement, so important is this message."

Bruce's eyes widened with surprise. Alfred was something to behold when it came to getting things done. There hadn't been the slightest hint of aggression in the elderly man's voice. The tone echoed authority and calm assertiveness, but Bruce could hear the strain in the polished British vowels. Another probably wouldn't have noticed but Bruce recognized the emotion. He stepped forward and placed his hand on Alfred's arm in support.

"Thank you, Nurse Devin. The message?..." Alfred paused for a moment, his eyes flicking to Bruce and then Dick. "Please tell her that all chocolate cake is once again under threat at the Manor... Yes, I'm sure it sounds like a frivolous message to you, but Leslie will understand it. Thank you... I'll hold." Alfred glanced across at Bruce again. "She's passing on the message now. I assume we need to keep this a secret for a little while?"

"Chocolate cake?"

"Master Dick's fondness for chocolate cake is well-known to all who know him. Leslie will understand." Alfred's eyes fell on Dick.

"I don't have any answers, yet," Bruce replied in response to the question held on Alfred's face. "He's alive, exhausted to the point of collapse and he's been badly beaten. He wandered in here about half an hour ago. By the look of the cloak he was wearing...."

"Leslie." Alfred interrupted. He listened and a smile of relief radiated from his face. Leslie had understood the message and had come to the phone immediately. "Yes, he's home, but he is in need of your attention... Thank you." Alfred handed the phone back to Bruce. "She's on her way."

"You're incredible, Alfred."

"Something I have been trying to communicate for some time, Sir," Pennyworth replied, patting the hand Bruce had laid on his arm before leaning over Dick. His brow furrowed with sympathy as he studied the massive bruising to the side of his face. "Someone really worked him over."

"That was my initial reaction, but I'm not so sure. It could have happened in the river," Bruce whispered. "God only knows how he survived."

"I am sure the Almighty played his part," Alfred agreed.

VVVVVVVVVV 

Tim knocked lightly on the expansive oak door. The carving had been done over a century earlier by an artist without peer. When there was no answer, Tim took a key from his pocket.

"You have a key to the front door of Wayne Manor?" Roy asked, curiously.

"I lived here for a while."

Roy snorted. He was amazed Bruce hadn't taken it back. Roy followed the jean-clad teenager into the main hall and found himself caught in a time tunnel. Memories rushed up and consumed him. Images of him and Dick racing around these halls as youngsters. Of Alfred scolding them. Of him and Dick sealing up the shower with Bruce's silicone gun and filling it with water... of Dick's reaction to being replaced. Tears welled in Roy's eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I should have done this for you years ago."

"Huh?" Tim asked, curiously. "You okay?"

Roy strode further into the house calling "Bruce Wayne?"

Wayne appeared at the top of the stairs and stared down at the visitors with annoyance. "Quiet," he ordered.

"In your sanctimonious ass," Roy responded with volume.

Tim froze. Where the hell had that come from? The teenager expected to see Bruce come down the stairs like an angel of doom and rip Roy apart for that comment, but Wayne remained frozen, his eyes flashing with curiosity. "Roy..." Tim urged, rushing to his friend's side.

"Stay out of this, Kid. This is between me and Wayne." Roy shouldered by Tim and started up the stairs. "So where were you the day we buried Dick?"

"Roy!" Tim cried, rushing after him. Arsenal was moving into a very dangerous area. Bruce wasn't himself at the moment.

"Busy, huh? Something more important on?" Roy snarled. "Do you have any concept of what you meant to him? God only knows why, but he loved you. He couldn't see past that." Bruce didn't move, his face losing all colour.

"Roy! Please," Tim pleaded, latching onto Arsenal's arm. Roy viciously ripped himself free and continued up the long winding staircase, his voice echoing in the silent house. Alfred appeared in the doorway of a room further along the hall behind Bruce and shook his head.

"Was it a game to you? Did you enjoy hurting him the way you did? Or is your head so far up your ass that you had no idea of how much damage you and your self-righteous war against crime did to him?"

Tim stopped and watched as the distance between the two men closed. He couldn't read Bruce's face. He had no idea of how his mentor was going to react.

"He would of died for you... oh, that's right, HE DID! And you couldn't be bothered to attend his funeral. Explain that to me, Bruce. I'd love to hear your reasons for missing the funeral of the only person on this planet who actually believed that you're worth half of what you seem to think of yourself."

They were now face to face. Arsenal's hands balled into fists. "TELL ME!"

"Keep your voice down and follow me," Bruce growled in a hushed voice as spun around and walked back along the hall.

"Don't turn your back on me!" Roy shouted striding after him. Tim squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then followed. He knew he would have to stand between the two of them at some point. "You may have turned your back on him but..."

Bruce turned around as he reached the door of one of the bedrooms. This time, his face showed great emotion.

"Either you be quiet, or you leave," Wayne growled..

"Who's going to make me? You? For Dick's sake, you're going to stand there and listen to what I've got to..." Bruce stepped to the side. Roy's gaze fell on the bed. He blinked. His heart missed a beat as his green eyes doubled in size. His mouth opened but no words were forthcoming.

"BRUCE! IT'S DICK!" Tim shrieked, pushing past Roy and rushing to his silent friend's side.

"Quiet!" Bruce snapped. Dick moved. Bruce stepped around Roy, forced Tim back and then watched Dick carefully, ready to do what was necessary to ensure his son got the rest he needed.

"Bruce?" Dick muttered, neither truly awake nor asleep.

"Shhh. Go back to sleep."

"I'm not tired," Dick mumbled, a sly grin creasing his lips.

"It was an order."

"You know what you can do with your order." By the time he finished the sentence, he was dead to the world.

Roy's mouth started opening and closing but nothing but half words, grunts and gasps emanated from him.

Bruce coaxed Dick's two astonished friends out into the hall.

"Ahh... hea...wha..."

"He's alive!" Tim cried.

"Tim, keep it down or I swear, someone is going to die!" Bruce snarled.

Roy shook his head and tried to assimilate what was happening. "HE'S ALIVE!"

"Quiet, both of you! He's exhausted. I don't want him disturbed."

"But... what... when... how... ?"

Bruce shrugged. "I don't have a lot of answers at the moment. He walked in here about half an hour ago dead on his feet. Fell asleep straight away. He's been sick and badly beaten. Leslie is on her way."

"He's alive! I don't get it. We searched up and down that river bank for days! He wasn't there!" Tim cried.

"Where's he been? It's been ten days!"

"I don't know, and I don't care. He's alive," Wayne snapped. Those two sentences summed up Bruce Wayne's feelings. He didn't know what had happened and he certainly couldn't give a damn. His boy was alive. "I asked you to come Tim because Hugo Strange visited earlier today and..." Bruce frowned as he reflected on what he remembered. "He would have killed me but for Deathstroke."

"Deathstroke?" Roy cried. "Slade Wilson?"

Bruce nodded. "Strange may try again. If he does, I want to ensure Dick is protected while I deal with him."

"Did he tell you anything about where he's been or what the hell happened?" Tim asked, astonished.

Bruce glanced back through the open doorway. "He can barely think straight."

Tim was beaming. "He's alive! Whooh!"

"Tim!" Bruce warned, pulling the door to.

The youth covered his mouth but that didn't stop his legs from jumping about like they had minds of their own.

Wayne's eyes were drawn to Roy who was staring at him. "You knew he was alive?" Roy whispered.

Bruce shook his head. "No, I didn't. I... I don't owe you an explanation, Roy. He's my son. What transpires between the two of us is none of your business. However, I appreciate you coming. Strange could turn up with others. I'm not asking you to protect me, but I am asking you to protect Dick at all costs."

Roy continued to stare at Bruce. "What did you call him?" he asked. "Your son?"

"Why should that shock you? You of all people know that Dick is my son." The words were soft and strained.

Roy's brow furrowed as the frustration he felt took root. "Have you ever told him that?"

"That is none of your damn business."

Roy's eyes widened with rage. "The hell it isn't. He's my best friend. I'm not the one who is ashamed to say I love him. He's like a brother to me and I'm not prepared to stand by and watch you screw around with his head any more. He's your son only when it suits you."

Tim stepped between the two men. "Roy, please. This isn't the time for this."

"It's the time," Bruce growled. He placed his hand on Tim's shoulder and guided the boy out of the way. "Harper, he's always been my son. Practically from the day he moved in here at the age of eight. I don't claim to have been the best parent in the world, but he means more to me than..." Bruce swallowed. "How dare you come into my house and question that."

Roy frowned. "What the hell am I supposed to think, Bruce? For Christ's sake, you replaced him. Not just Robin. You adopted Jason. How the hell do you think he felt about that?"

"He understood," Wayne snarled, but he couldn't maintain eye contact. Roy's words had hit the mark.

"The hell he did," the anger was now gone from Roy's voice. His purpose had changed. Beating Batman to a pulp would achieve nothing. Dick was alive and Roy was determined to make Bruce understand all that had happened in the past. "You say he means something to you... that he is your son, but you never show it. Not even to him."

"Dick understands. He always has."

"Maybe you're right, but is it so hard for you to show him that he does actually mean..." Roy's voice faded out as he stared into the hard emotionless face of Bruce Wayne. Harper decided that he was fighting a losing battle. Wayne just didn't get it.

Out of the blue, Bruce's face twisted. "Fathers aren't supposed to bury their children," he whispered. It was his own way of answering Roy's initial question... the reason he hadn't attended the funeral... a bridge he hoped would help Roy understand.

Roy's brow furrowed. He still couldn't profess to understand Bruce Wayne but in Wayne's face he saw the honest truth. Bruce really did love Dick, which was something Roy hadn't been certain of. The thought of something happening to Lian provided Roy with some understanding of a couple of Bruce's statements. Fathers should never bury their children and no one had the right to question a father's love for his child.

Roy Harper swallowed and shook his head slowly. "I'm well known for having foot in mouth syndrome, Bruce. It hits when I least expect it. Excuse me while I try to pry my boot from my big mouth," Roy apologised. "I had no right to come in here and... I'm sorry. I just... Dick means a lot to me."

"I've known you most of your life, Master Roy. You've always suffered from foot in mouth syndrome," Alfred commented, approaching the group. He laid his hand on Roy's shoulder. "Master Dick will be pleased to see you when awakes. I've just had word from Leslie. She's coming up the drive now. If you'll excuse me, I'll go and greet her." Alfred moved through the group and headed downstairs.

Bruce and Roy continued to stare at each other. Finally Bruce's head bobbed once. Roy wasn't sure if it was an acknowledgement of the fact Roy had been right, or an acceptance of Roy's apology.

"Dick will be pleased to see you, son," Wayne acknowledged softly. "And yes, I do understand what you have been trying to say, Roy, though you have all the finesse and tact of a walrus. You haven't changed at all." Bruce smiled and he offered his hand. Roy stared down at it stunned and then took it. "I want you to understand three things, though. I love my son; I have every intention of making sure he knows that; and if you raise your voice in this house again, I'll beat you senseless."

Roy grinned stupidly. He had never seen this side of Bruce Wayne. Clearly, this was the side Dick knew. Bruce smiled easily, turned and went back into son's room. Roy and Tim started to follow. "You wake him, and I swear, you'll die," Bruce whispered.

"Might be better if you wait out here, Tim. You know how much noise you make," Roy suggested.

"Me?! Roy, you're the one that's been shooting his mouth off."

"Quiet," came a restrained snarl from indoors.

Roy pointed to Tim. "He meant you."

"He meant both of us."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

A low rumble from deep down in Bruce's chest advertised the fact that he hadn't been kidding. Both Roy and Tim clamped their mouths closed.

'Did not', Roy mouthed.

'Did too!'

This is not a deathfic - I promise  
  
PART EIGHT COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.  


** © August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	8. Chapter Eight

** WHEN HEROES GRIEVE  **  
  


__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.  
  


THIS STORY IS  NOT  A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.... _ I want to thank Bessie 1 and Shaindl who I haven't been able to send thanks to because I don't have their e-mail addresses._

* * *

** Part Eight**

Leslie entered the room like a whirlwind.

"Out," she ordered calmly, but very firmly. "All of you, out. Alfred," she prompted, reaching her left hand out for her bag as her right settled on Dick's brow.

"Leslie..." Bruce started.

"Out," the doctor repeated. "The last thing I need is you hovering around the bed in my way. Go. I'll take care of him... Shit, look at that bruising."

"He hasn't said a lot..."

"Out, Bruce. Now," Leslie repeated, pulling the blankets down. "Good God, Dick. What the hell have you been up to?" the Doctor muttered, eying the severe bruising, her attention zeroing in on the primitive stitching. "Close the door behind you, Bruce. Alfred, I could use some extra light if you can manage it."

Bruce backed out of the room to join Tim and Roy who had both made hasty exits. Roy sported a stunned expression. In all the years he had known Batman he had ever seen anyone order him around.

"We've got some memberships open in the Titans. You reckon Dr. Thompkins is available?" Roy chuckled.

Bruce glanced at Arsenal and smirked half-heartedly, his eyes echoing his great concern. "Not even Alfred argues with Leslie when she's on the warpath," he explained. "Come on you two. We'll wait downstairs. I could use a drink."

"I'll drink to that," Roy agreed. He glanced at Tim. "You can have soda pop, junior."

"And I suppose you think you're outstandingly witty."

"I know it," Roy laughed, slipping his arm across Tim's shoulders. The teenager smiled. For the first time in days, he felt relaxed, but the feeling didn't last long. Thoughts of Gotham intruded on his good mood. Batman had to go back and take control.

"Bruce, we need to talk about what's happening in Gotham."

"Right now, Dick is what is important. Until I know he is safe and well, I'm not prepared to entertain anything else."

Tim's eyebrows drew down. Roy's rose and then he smiled. Yep, Bruce Wayne was acting like a father. Better late than never, Arsenal thought with satisfaction as he took a seat.

"But, Bruce, things are really bad."

"Things are always really bad," Wayne dismissed, handing Roy a drink. "Both the police and the army are active. They can handle it."

Tim glanced at Roy looking for support, but it was clear that Arsenal agreed with Bruce. "The Joker is calling for people to join him. He wants to set up an organisation that..."

"Arsenal, are you intending staying a few days?" Bruce asked.

"As long as Dick needs me."

Bruce nodded, though didn't sit. His eyes flicked to the stairs as he paced unconsciously.

"He'll be okay," Roy offered.

Bruce's eyes remained on the stairs, his mind on the injuries his boy had sustained.

Without warning, Tim leapt to his feet and raced toward the phone in the hall. "Barbara! I have to call her."

"No," Bruce called after him.

"What?" Tim asked stunned, pausing and glancing back over his shoulder.

Wayne pulled his eyes from the staircase and let them fall on Tim. "I said no," he repeated without explanation.

"But... she thinks... why?" Tim asked confused.

"Because I said no." With that, Bruce turned and climbed the stairs. He couldn't wait any longer. He wanted and needed to be at Dick's side.

Tim watched him go and turned to Roy. "How can he keep this from Barbara... from everyone? They have to be told."

Roy sipped his drink and frowned. Strangely, he felt he understood Bruce's reasons. Just over twelve months earlier, Lian had been kidnapped. When she was found safe and sound, friends and family had come from everywhere. Roy couldn't get his hands on his daughter as well-wishers had passed the child around. He had been so frustrated because he simply wanted his little girl to himself.

"He just wants some time," Roy explained.

"Time for what? I'm going to ring Barbara," Tim growled, starting for the phone once again. He had never openly disobeyed Bruce but he couldn't, in good conscience, keep this from the woman who was in love with Dick.

"Tim, leave it," Roy ordered. "A few hours isn't going make a great deal of difference and... he deserves to spend some time alone with Dick." Roy never thought he'd ever say such a thing, but he'd seen something in Bruce Wayne today that he recognized - a father's concern.

Tim's brow wrinkled as he considered Roy's words. Reluctantly, he conceded. "We better get going. Robin is needed out there. Bruce doesn't have any idea of how bad it is."

"He asked us to stay in case Strange returns with some thugs in tow."

"But what about..."

"Gotham City can look after itself for one night, Tim. Right now, Dick needs us here to watch his back. Considering the number of times he's saved both of our necks, I think we owe him at least that."

VVVVVVVVVV

Bruce stood quietly in the doorway for over twenty minutes watching as Leslie conducted her examination. Dick alternated in and out of consciousness throughout, mumbling answers to the doctor's questions. Finally, Leslie pulled the covers up around Dick, kissed him on the forehead, turned to Bruce and beckoned him forward.

"He looks worse than he is," Leslie assured. "The bruising is deep, but outside of two broken ribs there don't appear to be any other major injuries. The puncture wound wasn't from a rib but from something externally. He has a slight fever but that is due to exertion. His lungs don't sound good. He's definitely had water in them. I'll know more when he wakes up."

"His inability to remain coherent?" Bruce checked, staring down at Dick.

"There is some head trauma as evidenced by the bruising on the left side of his face, but I don't believe that is responsible for his conscious state. Quite simply, he's exhausted. He said something about not sleeping for three days and I'm inclined to believe him. He needs rest. I'm going to get some heat into his chest to help bring out the bruising. I've injected him with some painkillers, taped his ribs and re-stitched the puncture. I need to take some x-rays but that can wait until he wakes. If I need to reset the ribs, I can do it then." Leslie stepped up beside Bruce and slipped her arm around him. "He's going to be okay. I don't know where he's been, but someone has been caring for him and they did a pretty good job of it too."

Bruce didn't move. He swallowed and allowed all of the emotions he had been suppressing to surface. His body shuddered as realization settled - Dick was alive. His boy was back from the dead and Bruce Wayne's heart felt overwhelmed.

Leslie glanced at him. "Are you okay?"

Wayne didn't respond. He crouched down beside Dick, staring at his son intently. Slowly, he reached out and placed his hand on Dick's head, tears welling in his eyes.

Grayson stirred. He blinked up at Bruce and mumbled something incoherent, but the last three words were clear. 'I'm okay, Dad'. Grayson's blue eyes disappeared under his heavy lids and he exhaled deeply. Bruce Wayne's heart soared. It was far from the first time Dick had called him dad. The word had slipped out every now and then over the years when Dick was very tired or very excited. However, this had been the first time in a long, long time. That single word had always been important, but today, it meant more to Bruce than anything in the world.

Wayne smiled, smoothing Dick's hair back. "Yeah, I know. I just... Dick, I..." He had so much he wanted to say and yet the words he needed weren't there. "Dick... you..."

"He's asleep, Bruce," Leslie whispered.

"I know. I just... God, Leslie." Wayne dropped his head and desperately fought to maintain some semblance of control.

Alfred, who had been standing on the other side of the bed, walked around, stopped beside Bruce and dropped his hand down onto the emotional man's shoulder. "There will be plenty of time for you to talk to him when he wakes. Right now, sleep is the best medicine in the world. Isn't that right, Leslie?"

"Yes. A few hours sleep and he'll be more aware of what is going on around him."

Bruce rose to his feet and turned to the doctor. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Leslie."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Now, time for me to have a look at you. You seem to have lost quite a bit of weight," the physician diagnosed, critically. "When was the last time you had a decent meal?"

"I had some apple pie earlier," Bruce replied absentmindedly, his attention returning to Dick.

"You sit with him and Alfred and I will make you something," Leslie encouraged. Wayne didn't move. Alfred guided Bruce down into the chair beside the bed.

Once again Bruce was a million miles away. Leslie and Alfred exchanged a knowing look and exited the room. Both knew that Wayne had been given a second chance. Now, it was up to him how he intended using it.

Bruce reached out for Dick's hand and encircled it with his huge fist. The sensation of Dick's hand slipping from his grasp repeated for the hundredth time. "I've got you," Wayne promised.

VVVVVVVVVV

The computer screen flickered with images of Gotham; constantly changing as Oracle's sophisticated equipment intercepted various transmissions. Barbara was largely unaware of what was happening. She had tried to remain focused but the pain in her heart was too strong for her to ignore. In her hands she held a photo frame. Her emerald eyes brimmed with tears as she stared down at the face of the man she loved.

Her finger rubbed against the glass and she smiled through the steady stream of tears that were now cascading down her face. "I love you," she said aloud. She heard the words and her resolve crumbled. Dick was one of only a handful of people she had ever allowed to get close. Unlike so many others who had said things hadn't changed between them after she had lost the use of her legs, he had meant it. He had treated her no differently. As a matter of fact, it was as if he hadn't seen the chair at all. Unfortunately, she had continued to question how he could do so. Now, when it was too late, she realized that the genuine love he had shown had been real, not a result of sympathy and was the reason he simply hadn't cared about the chair.

Barbara pulled the photo to her chest and held it against her, her grief tumbling out of her in loud, unrestrained sobs.

VVVVVVVVVV

It was around nine a.m. the next day when Dick rolled over and gradually returned to his senses. His mind was foggy and blank. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were so heavy that he found it a real effort to get them to co-operate. His mind moved in a vacuum and then cleared.

"Bruce!"

Wayne awoke with a start and instantly reached for Dick. "It's okay," he assured the confused man.

"Bruce?" Dick stared around the room and a long sigh of relief echoed out of him. He'd made it home.

The billionaire pulled himself up straighter in the chair that had served as his bed, nodded and smiled. "Welcome back." Grayson's and Wayne's eyes connected and their souls touched. For several seconds neither spoke, allowing the nebulous connection between them to communicate all that was needed.

Finally, Dick sighed and his pale lips curled into a hint of a smile. "I didn't think I'd make it." He reached up and rubbed his eyes, the action evoking a groan.

"Take it easy," Bruce warned, rising to his feet and checking Dick's brow for fever. "You're black and blue from head to toe." One side of Dick's face was swollen and sporting a kaleidoscope of dreadful green, purple and blue bruising. The other, in stark contrast, was ashen, almost as white as the sheets he was resting on.

Dick became aware of a second person leaning over him. He smiled up at the relieved face hovering above him. "Hey, Alf."

Pennyworth patted Dick's head with great affection. The deep lines of worry that had been etched into his elderly face earlier were gone, replaced by a beaming smile that allowed the years to evaporate. "It is wonderful to have you home, son."

"It's good to be home," Dick whispered, raising himself up to hug the man who was the cornerstone in his life. No matter how crazy his life got, Pennyworth was the stable force Grayson could turn to. Alfred held Dick, careful not to hug too tightly so he didn't aggravate the horrific injures the young man had sustained. Silently the butler gave thanks to God for providing the miracle that had returned both of Alfred's boys to him.

Bruce watched the two express their affection for each other. They did it with such ease. Envy blanketed Wayne's heart. He loved them both and found himself longing for the same ability to express what he felt.

Tears brimmed in Alfred's eyes as he released Dick and watched Bruce lower the injured man back to the pillow. "You were very badly missed, my boy."

Before Dick could respond, his name was shouted from the doorway.

"Dick, you're awake!" Grayson glanced to his left and spotted Roy and Tim entering the room, both smiling like Cheshire cats and bouncing like jackrabbits.

"Guys."

Alfred stepped back to allow the two newcomers access to the bed.

"Hell, Robbie, you look a sight," Roy grimaced, eyeing his friend's battered and puffed face. "Looks like you went three rounds with Trigon."

Grayson smiled wearily and turned back to Bruce. "How are you?" Wayne's face was drawn from stress and loss of weight, but for the first time in days, his eyes were bright.

"Better than I was this time yesterday," Bruce admitted, quietly.

The grin left Dick's face and he reached for his former guardian's arm. "I... as soon as I could get on my feet I..."

Bruce squeezed the young man's shoulder. "Relax. It's not your fault. I just... I'm fine, now," he assured. For several more seconds they just stared at each other.

__

I'm sorry, Bruce.

Everything's alright. "Leslie said it was important to get you to drink some water as soon as you woke up," Bruce stated.

"I'll get some!" Tim cried, rushing off to do so.

Dick attempted to pull himself up, but his chest pinched with vigor, causing him to gasp. Two sets of hands darted out to assist him. "I'm okay. Just... "

"You look like shit," Roy stated seriously as he and Bruce steadied the injured man.

"Reckon I feel like it too, Speedy." Harper crouched beside the bed and watched Dick settle against the wall while Bruce began arranging the pillows behind his boy. Once again, Roy was stunned. This was not the man he knew as Batman.

"You look dreadful, Dick," Tim grimaced, handing his friend a glass of water.

"I don't believe I have ever seen you this badly beaten, Master Dick."

Grayson glanced at Bruce. "You got somethin' to add?" he demanded, an annoyed twang permeating his voice.

Wayne couldn't stop the smile dancing onto his lips. "How do you feel?"

Dick sighed and sipped the water. "To be honest, everything hurts. My head. My feet. My arms. My legs. Hell, even my damn ass." He smirked at the unimpressed look Alfred shot him.

"Considering the beating you've taken, it's to be expected," Bruce stated, noting that Dick's hand was trembling slightly. The billionaire took the empty glass from his son and watched with concern as Dick allowed his head to rest back against the wall. "I'll call Leslie."

"I'm fine, Bruce. Just dog tired. I walked for three days straight. Wasn't sure if I was going to make it." Dick's eyes closed momentarily.

"Dick, what happened?" Tim whispered. "We looked and looked for you."

PART NINE COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.  


** © August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	9. Chapter Nine

** WHEN HEROES GRIEVE  **  
  


__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.  
  


THIS STORY IS  NOT  A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.... _ I want to thank Bessie 1, flame guardian(), WhiteTigeress326, stephanieff()and Missy May, who I haven't been able to send personal thanks to because I don't have their e-mail addresses. You comments and support and very much appreciated._  
  
Leahblueeyes and Aniki my message to you keep bouncing. I'm not sure why.

* * *

** Part Eight**

Another long tired sigh echoed out of the young man in the bed and he unconsciously reached for his ribs.

Bruce squeezed his shoulder. "You aren't up to this."

"You need to rest," Alfred added.

Dick scanned the faces of the those around him. All wore expressions reflecting deep concern. "I'm okay. Really. Just feel whacked." Dick collected his thoughts. "I don't know how I got to the bank, but I did." He remembered thinking that Bruce had probably dived in after him and that he had to get ashore so he could help his friends rescue Batman. "I think I was awake for a while, but... I can't really remember. When I woke up, there was someone learning over me."

"One of the Templer Monks?" Bruce guessed.

Dick glanced at the older man and grinned wearily. "I hate it when you do that."

"Nice to see you getting some of your own back," Roy chuckled. "Now you know how I feel when you do it to me."

Dick winked at his friend and then turned back to Bruce. "How did you know?"

"It was the cloak you were wearing. It's of the type worn by the Templer Monks."

"Templer Monks?" Roy asked.

"They have a monastery about 100 miles out of Gotham. They've been completely cut off since the earthquakes." In the wake of the devastation, the decision was made to clear the city of debris as quickly as possible. The area west of Gotham had been pastoral. Farmers hadn't been happy about the decision to reclaim their land as a huge dump site but the area was unstable after the earthquakes anyway, wide fissures opened in the land. More than two hundred hectares were evacuated so that truckload after truckload of rubble could be deposited in the unstable area. Despite repeated attempts to remove them, the monks had refused to leave their monastery. They were completely self-sufficient and thus had no need to abandon their spiritual home. They didn't like being disturbed and so the huge man-made wasteland created around them was welcomed. No one had entered the area since the departure of the last truck some twelve months earlier.

"I know the river goes out past the old monastery, but you couldn't possibly have been carried that far," Tim pointed out. "I mean, the river was enormous."

Dick nodded. "Tell me about it."

"Considering the speed the water was running, it is very possible that he could have been carried that far quite quickly," Bruce muttered. Of course, the amazing thing was the fact that somehow Dick had remained afloat.

"That's where all of your injuries occurred?" Roy asked, indicating Dick's bandaged chest. Bruises also covered Grayson's arms and legs. Roy shook his head. "God, Dick."

"I... I don't remember a lot." He glanced at Bruce. "Cassie got the little girl," he confirmed.

Wayne nodded. His brow furrowed. Dick had avoided answering Roy's question.

"Thank, God. As soon as I dived in after the toddler I realized I had left her behind."

"What do you remember?" Bruce pressed.

"Not a lot. I remember clinging to something and being tossed about in the river" His mind drifted as memories surfaced. He had been pummelled in the water by everything from trees to cars. It was all a blur beyond the pain and his determination to keep his head above water. "I remember someone hovering above me. I guess I must have been washed up on the bank somewhere in the wasteland near the monastery. The monks must have found me. I was aware of them but... it's all a blur really. When I started thinking straight, I tried to make them understand that I had to call you, but they just didn't seem to get it."

"The monks take a vow of silence," Alfred explained. "And one of poverty. They don't have electricity or phones so contacting anyone would have been impossible."

"Yeah, I realized that after a while. As soon as I was strong enough, I got them to understand that I needed to go. They gave me some clothes and some food and I left. Walked day and night. Didn't stop until... " Grayson swallowed. He'd lost his train of thought. He was starting to find it difficult to concentrate again. His need to close his eyes was becoming more insistent. His body was reverberating with a dull ache, while painkillers and fatigue amalgamated to cloud his mind.

"Three days, Dick. God, how did you do it?" Tim murmured.

"Don't remember a lot of it, Kid Just knew I had to get back because you probably all thought I... " The young man's sentence faded out.

Bruce nodded. "We thought you'd drowned."

"Sorry." The message was for all, but Dick was staring into the face of the man who had raised him.

"None of it matters," Wayne stated simply. _You're back. _

Grayson frowned. "You look like you've been ill."

"He got hypothermia after spending all night looking for..." Roy jabbed Tim in the ribs.

Dick's eyes narrowed. "I see. And if I'd done that, you'd have kicked my ass."

Alfred flicked his eyes to Bruce. "He knows you well."

Wayne shook his head with very real amusement.

Grayson turned to Roy. "What are you doing in Gotham?"

"Tim summoned me with a gold pen call." Roy winked at his friend.

Grayson blinked as he searched his memory for some form of understanding. Unfortunately he was fighting a losing battle against his need to sleep. Finally, recollection settled in the fog. "I hope you don't mind. I wanted Tim to have someone to go to if he if ever couldn't contact Bruce or me"

"No worries. I was pleased to help out. Hey, I wonder what the hell ever happened to that pen?" Roy laughed.

"Are you hungry?" Bruce asked.

"Don't know." Dick blinked slowly and his eyelids became heavier. "I guess so. Haven't... eaten for... a while." The words slurred together as exhaustion tugged at him.

Wayne grabbed Roy and Tim's attention and lowered his voice. "Can one of you go and get Leslie? She's in the library."

"I'll go," Tim offered. He rose quickly and headed for the door.

"I'll come with you," Roy offered. It was clear his friend wasn't up to visitors yet.

Wayne nodded his thanks.

"Boys, I know you want to let everyone know he's alive but I think it would be best to keep Dick's return to ourselves until he's ready to..." Bruce glanced down at the topic of conversation. Dick's eyes were closed again and deep breathy breathing was echoing out of him. "...until he's strong enough to take the attention."

"Hell, he must have been sick," Roy muttered.

"He walked three days," Tim pointed out.

"Pure guts and determination," Harper stated. "Once Dick has something in his mind, no one can change it."

"You're not telling me anything I don't know," Bruce murmured. "He just needs to rest. The last thing he needs is a whole lot of people coming out here to wish him well."

"I agree," Roy supported.

"At least until Leslie clears him for visitors," Alfred added.

Tim flicked his eyes from one to the other of his companions realizing that the conversation was for his benefit. Finally he allowed his attention to fall on Dick. "Yeah, but we can't keep this to ourselves for long. There are a lot of people who care and deserve to know he's alive."

"Help me get him back down," Bruce requested. Roy eased his hands under Dick's left shoulder, Bruce his right. Together the two men slid Dick back down into the bed. Grayson awoke startled, struggling against the caring hands holding him.

"Easy. It's okay. Go to sleep," Wayne ordered.

"Sorry, didn't mean to drop off. Can't keep... my eyes... open."

"You've got a lot of sleep to catch up on. You take as long as you need."

__

Thanks, Bruce.

Wayne smiled, picked up Dick's hand and squeezed it. The action held as much affection as any hug. Roy and Tim exchanged happy smiles and quietly left the room. Alfred's face reflected not only his happiness but his pride. He definitely had both of his boys back.

Outside, Roy slapped Tim on the back as they headed for the stairs. "Well, what do you know. Bats is human after all. If this keeps up, I'll be insisting on DNA testing to prove it's him," Roy whispered.

Tim grinned. "He loves Dick, Roy. He just isn't someone who shows his emotions a lot."

"Let's be honest and say that basically he's a mongrel but a mongrel who's slowly growing on me." Of course, if Bruce didn't live up to his pledge, Roy was just the man to remind him of it.

Tim rolled his eyes but like Roy, he was riding a wave of pure joy and relief. Having been able to speak to Dick, had allowed both men confirm that their battered friend was indeed okay. "Can I ask you something, Roy?" Tim asked, stopping at the top of the stairs.

"Go for it, Kid."

"What the hell is a gold pen call?"

Arsenal grinned and leaned back against the railing. "Long story, Tim." Roy sent his mind back. "When I was about fourteen, the President presented Ollie with a gold pen for his philanthropy work. Ollie was soooo proud of it. He kept it in the wall safe at home."

"You didn't?" Tim chuckled.

"Red flag to a bull, Kid. I snuck it out and took it to a JLA meeting to show it off. In those days Robbie, Twinkle Toes and I used have to wait in the common room while the adults had their meeting. I showed the pen to Dick and Wally and then... I don't know how it happened, but I lost it."

"What did Ollie do?"

Roy smiled. "Telling him was not my first response. Dick was incredible. He was so calm. First he rang Alfred and asked for permission to use his credit card. Then he went on-line and found a pen that looked exactly the same as the one I'd lost. He arranged for a courier to deliver it directly into my hand within forty minutes. We swore each other to secrecy and to this day, Ollie doesn't know it's a different pen."

Tim shook his head, smiling broadly.

"A few years later, Wally got himself into some trouble. He wouldn't tell us what it was and before I knew it, he and I were arguing like hell. Dick didn't bat an eyelid. He just asked Wally if he remembered the day we had replaced the gold pen and said that it looked to him like this was another gold pen type of situation. Help needed - total secrecy - no questions asked."

"And did you help him?"

"Yeah, he told us what the problem was and we fixed it."

"Which was?" Tim asked curiously.

Roy shook his head. "I can't betray his trust, Tim. We did what we had to. It wasn't a high point in Wally's life. I guess I was the first to make a gold pen _call_," he added, changing the subject. "When I was trying to find my daughter I realized I needed help, but I couldn't explain a lot. I was sort of in over my head and not exactly on the right side of the law."

"Help needed - total secrecy - no questions asked," Tim murmured.

"Exactly. I rang Dick and told him it was a gold pen call. He flew half way across the world and helped me, no questions asked. I owe him so much. He's the one person I've always been able to depend on even when I've strayed from the straight and narrow. That's why if anything happens to me, custody of Lian goes to Dick."

Tim's eyes widened.

"You thought Donna?" Roy guessed.

"Well, I... yeah."

"Donna would play a huge role in raising Lian, Dick knows that, but Lian's mother is a dangerous woman and I want my daughter in the safest hands possible. There is no question in my mind whose hands those are. Dick would be able to protect her from Cheshire and from anyone and anything else." Complete confidence resounded in each and every syllable. That, Tim could understand. He felt exactly the same way about the man he thought of as an older brother.

VVVVVVVVVV

Bruce watched Roy and Tim go and then returned his attention to Dick. Grayson felt pressure applied to his hand and he sighed deeply. He felt tired, but safe and incredibly relieved.

Bruce swallowed. He'd been given the time he'd asked for. Now he had the opportunity to say all that he should have over the years. "Dick, I...."

"I'll check and see where Leslie has got to," Alfred interrupted, exiting the room. His boys deserved some time alone.

Bruce licked his lips as he searched for some way to put what he felt into words. "When you went under...when you slipped through my fingers I..."

Dick blinked, struggling to focus on what Bruce was saying. He was aware of the strain on his former guardian's face. "Bruce..."

"No, let me speak." Wayne rose to his feet, releasing Dick's fist. The billionaire ran his hand through his hair in frustration as he tried to explain all he felt. "When I woke up in hospital and Alfred told me that you were gone..." He couldn't finish the statement as the grief, shock and anger he had felt at the time rose up once again. He turned away from Dick and chose a spot on the wall to focus on, hoping it would be easier than facing his son. "It isn't possible, Dick. One person can't do it. I couldn't stop any of it from happening. I couldn't save them all... I couldn't even save you. I've finally realized... I mean... I lost you. I was right there and I couldn't stop..." His voice choked up and broke. "Dick, it's a war out there. It always has been and it always will be. The war goes on, but... I can't." The admission was hushed. "I've realized that none of it means anything without y..." Bruce paused as he became aware of the deep breathing coming from the injured man. He stared down at his boy whose heavily bandaged chest rose and fell evenly in the throngs of sleep. Wayne swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. For several seconds he stood, drowning in frustration and emotion.

Finally, Bruce opened his eyes, stepped up to the bed and tucked the blankets around his boy. There would be time later. Leslie appeared in the doorway.

"He's asleep again. We got him to drink some water," Wayne informed her, regaining his composure.

"Was he in any pain?" the doctor asked, reaching for Dick's brow.

"A little, I think. He's still exhausted."

"Next time he wakes I want to take him down to the cave to x-ray his chest and skull. Now, it is about time you got some rest. I'll sit with him for a while."

Wayne shook his head. "No, I'll stay. He keeps waking unsettled."

Leslie's heart lifted. It had been a long time since she had seen this side of Bruce. "I'll bring you some coffee."

"Tim and Roy?" Bruce inquired.

"Left a few minutes ago." While it warmed Leslie's heart to see Bruce placing Dick first, it also concerned her in light of both Alfred's and Tim's comments. Both had expressed alarm at the fact that Bruce had shown no indication that he intended pulling the cape back on. That said a great deal about Bruce's state of mind.

"Tim said it was important to try and gain some control in Gotham. Things are quite bad." The doctor waited for a reaction from Bruce, but there was none. She had never seen Wayne disinterested in what was happening in his city. All her life she had worried over his obsession, the unrealistic objective he had set himself as a young man and the pressure he placed on himself every night he donned the cowl. There had been times when she had begged him to take some time off. As she stared into the face of the man she had played a part in raising, she saw something far more worrying - indifference. This was what Tim and Alfred had told her earlier and she hadn't been prepared to believe them. "I hate to admit it, but Batman is badly needed," Leslie urged in a hushed voice.

"Batman has done all he can and it wasn't enough. It could never be enough, Leslie," Bruce replied, his voice void of any emotion.

Thompkins frowned. "What are you saying?"

Bruce turned from her and let his eyes fall on Dick. "I'm finally seeing things clearly."

"But what does that mean, Bruce? That you're retiring?"

PART Ten COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.  


** © August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	10. Chapter Ten

**WHEN HEROES GRIEVE **  
  


__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.  
  


THIS STORY IS NOT A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.... _I want to thank Bessie 1, flame guardian(), WhiteTigeress326, stephanieff(), Missy May, Jen() and Teri () who I haven't been able to send personal thanks to because I don't have their e-mail addresses. You comments and support and very much appreciated._  
  
Leahblueeyes and Comesan my messages to you keep bouncing. I'm not sure why.

* * *

**Part Ten**

Chaos was the only word Tim could think of to describe Gotham. He had never seen anything like it, not even during the Clench… not even after the Earthquakes. The police and army were gradually losing control. Robin and Arsenal had stopped dozens of muggings, robberies and other crimes since they had taken to the streets, but it was a drop in the bucket... a drop in an ocean of crime. Each time the pair had interceded, the reactions of the thugs were the same. "If the kid's here, Batman must be alive!" However, when Batman failed to materialize, there was jubilance and then a renewed determination to fight back.

"We've lost the edge," Tim muttered as he bound his latest catch. Those who had never taken the step of breaking the law for fear of coming face to face with Gotham's avenging angel of the night were now out in force. Teenage gangs were roaming the streets looking for trouble without fear of reprisal. The police couldn't touch them. The courts would release them with a slap on the wrist. Batman, was whole different experience all together.

Arsenal glanced at the boy. "They're growing in confidence," he agreed. "Turning the tide isn't going to be easy."

"Batman could."

"He's only human, Robin… and I mean that. Only just _barely _human," Arsenal chuckled, trying to lift the boy's spirits.

Robin looked at the other man and realized he didn't understand. Very few people did. Batman could stop this anarchy simply by his presence. Robin had seen it before. He feared he may never see it again. The teenage hero raised his communicator. "Oracle, three more. They're on the corner of Fourth and Redland Streets. Send the boys in blue to collect them."

He waited for a reply. When it didn't come immediately, Tim licked his lips. For the last four hours he had been in contact with Barbara and the grief in her voice had been cutting him to the quick. She had tried to hide it, but Tim could sense the depths of her anguish. The teenager had come close to revealing Dick was alive in their last conversation.

"Roger that, Robin. We have reports of shots fired at the Melbourne Bank on South street. We have a gang going on a smashing spree in central Gotham. There are seventy-six calls for help across the city. We can't keep up," she whispered. "It's everywhere."

"We can only do what we can," Tim responded. They were words beyond his years, but leadership was being forced upon him as his adult partners struggled to deal with their emotions. Drake had come to realize that Dick Grayson was much more than just a friend, lover and son. He was literally the circuit breaker for the batclan. Nightwing could turn the darkest situation on its head with a single dry comment. He was Batman's one connection with happiness and sanity, Barbara's soulmate and Tim's best friend and brother. Without him, the soul had been wrenched from their group. The teenager recognized the same was true for Roy and the Titans. Dick was so much to so many people... and they all deserved to know he was alive!

Robin swallowed, trying to collect this thoughts and set his emotions aside. He was carrying a heavy burden, but soon he would be able to tell Dick's friends the truth. "Let's keep it together, gang," he encouraged. Just as he was lowering his communicator, he heard Barbara break into restrained sobs. "Oracle... it... it'll be okay."

"For Gotham maybe," she agreed, her voice horribly distorted. Gotham may recover, but she knew she never would.

Tim licked his lips. Arsenal took the communication device from his young partner's hand. "Arsenal and Robin moving to central Gotham. Arsenal out."

Tim cursed, smashing his fist into the nearest wall.

"Easy, Kid."

"It isn't right, Roy. She deserves to know. She loves him. How would you have felt if you found out he was alive and no one told you?"

Roy shrugged. "I'd be pissed off until it was pointed out to me that Dick was ill and the decision had been made in his best interests."

"I don't believe a word of that," Tim spat, turning to confront the older hero.

"You're probably right. I'd have wanted someone's blood. However, if we tell one, we need to tell all and we both saw Dick. He isn't up to that."

"Oracle's in love with him, Roy," Tim snarled.

"So are half of the women in the Titans," Arsenal started, apparently perplexed. "Don't understand why when they could have me. I mean, Robbie's nice enough, but he really isn't in my league. When it comes to charm, good looks and raw animal magnetism, I leave Robbie for dead."

A grin gradually spread over Tim's tired face as Roy's words achieved their objective. Arsenal clapped the younger man on the back. "We'll give Dick twenty-four hours and then _you_ can tell Oracle, Robin. People always take it out on the messenger."

"Thanks a whole hell of a lot," Tim laughed.

VVVVVVVVVV 

Dick slept through until midday. When he woke, Leslie and Bruce assisted him down to the Batcave where he had x-rays and then he was returned to his room for a thorough examination by the doctor. Leslie had ushered Bruce from the room before starting, insisting that he would only be in the way. Wayne had left somewhat reluctantly.

As Leslie removed her stethoscope from Dick's chest after half an hour of probing and prodding, she paused and eyed him critically.

"What?" he asked, innocently.

Leslie shook her head at the baby blues flashing at her. Thankfully, after fifteen years, she was quite impervious to 'that' look. "The river didn't do all of this," she accused.

Grayson's face screwed up thoughtfully and then he buttoned his shirt around himself. His actions were slow and greatly restricted by his battered body. Walking down to the cave had taken a lot out of him, but for the first time, his mind felt clear.

"Your knuckles are bruised which means you've been using them without the protection of your gloves." She waited. "Well?"

Dick shrugged and grimaced immediately. Movement of any kind caused waves of pain to wash over him.

"I want to know, young man."

Her patient snorted with amusement.

"I'm not asking again." The tone was that particular one that all parents could produce when performing an inquisition.

Dick grinned. She had always been able to get the truth out of him. "About a day out of Gotham, I came across six men in the wasteland. On the run by the look of them. Good place to hide from the law out there. Bruce would probably be surprised what he'd find if he took a run out there. Anyway, they thought I was one of the monks and decided to have some 'fun'. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem but..."

"But you were injured," Leslie finished.

"Got the better of them in the end, but not before they worked me over pretty good."

"And you chose not to share this because...?" she asked.

Dick shrugged again and this time yelped. "I gotta stop doing that," he complained, panting.

"Don't change the subject."

Grayson scowled in frustration. "Come on, Leslie. If I'd told Bruce that I'd been attacked by a group of thugs he'd..."

"He'd have gone out there and taken them apart piece by piece."

"Bingo. And right now, he doesn't need the aggravation. He looks dreadful."

Leslie sat down beside the young man and picked up his hand. "He stopped living for ten days, son. I know he's about as articulate as a marble statue.. and that's on a good day..." Dick grinned. "... but he loves you and to be honest, he simply didn't cope." She sighed long and deep. "He is a complex man. I want you to know that within months of taking you in, he changed dramatically. Changed for the better," she added. "Like Alfred, I was against him becoming your guardian, but he was determined. In you, he saw himself and he didn't want you to turn into what he was."

"I guess he failed then," Dick muttered, eyeing his own stubbled reflection in the mirror. He really needed to shave.

Leslie smiled. "On the contrary, despite all the odds you turned out okay."

Dick smirked at her. "Just okay? Not better than okay?"

"Don't push it, young man."

Dick rubbed his eyes as fatigue blanketed him again. "Feel like a new born calf," he grumbled.

"You need to rest. You aren't going to get over this over night, young man. I know you honestly believe you are indestructible, but you're not. Your body has been through great trauma and it needs time to repair itself. If you were anyone else I'd have you in hospital for a month. As it is, I'm prescribing a week of bed rest followed by a second week confined to the Manor where Alfred can keep an eye on you. Then we'll re-evaluate your condition."

She waited for some witty comeback or complaint. Instead his brow furrowed with great concern. "Back to Bruce."

"Physically, he's fine, son. He didn't eat for quite some time, that's all. I've forced a couple of decent meals into him since I've arrived so we should begin to see some improvements soon. Relax. He's as tough as they come. Speaking of food, it's about time I got you to eat something."

"Sounds good. First, I need to get rid of some of that water you keep forcing down my throat. Must think I'm a fish!"

He struggled to his feet with Leslie's help, wrapped one arm across his injured ribs and headed for the bathroom. When he exited a few moments later, he moved slowly to the window and stared out over the Manor grounds. His eyes lit up with genuine happiness when he spotted the horses grazing. He honestly envied their simple lives. His was so complicated these days.

As Dick turned from the window, he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. Grayson paused, his attention captured completely. Leslie watched his already ashen complexion pale visibly.

"Dick?" the doctor asked, hastily moving to his side. She followed the line of his gaze and her breath caught in her throat. Before she could comment, Dick spun around and moved swiftly toward the door. "Dick?" Leslie called after him. For several seconds she contemplated how to handle this and then she rushed after him.

By the time she reached the top of the stairs he was disappearing out the front door. How he had moved that swiftly in his condition she didn't know, but then it wasn't the first time he had amazed her like this. Leslie called after him but it was clear he had no intention of stopping.

Bruce appeared from the study. "What is it?"

VVVVVVVVVV 

Dick stopped directly in front of the small wooden cross and his brow furrowed while his mouth set in a deep frown. He stared with narrowed eyes at the stake standing alone under the tree close to the stables. It was a strange feeling looking at his own name carved into a cross. For several seconds he was mesmerized, looking at something very few people ever got to see – their own headstone.

Footsteps approached from his right. Bruce stopped beside the silent man. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, both absorbed by what the symbol represented.

"I'm sorry," Dick whispered.

"None of it matters, now. You're here."

Dick shook his head. It did matter. He didn't know what to say. He had recognized that Bruce would think he was dead, but he hadn't expected this. He could only imagine what Bruce had gone through. If it had been the other way around, and he had thought that Bruce had died... Grayson couldn't even finish the thought.

The pale young man stepped forward, grabbed the cross, yanked it out of the ground and tossed it to the side. There was no anger in the movement, but there was a very real finality.

"We won't be needing that, Bruce. I have no intention of going anywhere." The words were soft and the tone reflected the emotion he felt. The fact that Bruce had erected the cross here had significant meaning for Dick. It was on this very spot that Bruce had asked him if he wanted to stay at Wayne Manor permanently. He had known from the beginning that living with Bruce and Alfred had only been temporary - the social worker had told him that repeatedly. There was no way a single man would be given custody of a traumatized child who had witnessed the death of his parents. When Bruce had brought him out here to sit under the old elm tree only a few minutes after having a shouting match with a group of lawyers and social workers, Dick had honestly thought it had been to tell him that he had to leave...

Bruce indicated for Dick to sit. The little boy swallowed and followed the instruction, sinking down on the cool grass under the tree. He felt so scared again. The last four weeks had been the worst in his life, but Bruce and Alfred had shown him so much kindness. He felt safe when Bruce was around. He knew Bruce understood how he felt because the quietly spoken billionaire had lost his parents when he was a child.

Wayne sat down too, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He picked up a leaf, curled it and then blew through it. The shrill whistle echoed in the open area. He handed the leaf to Dick and encouraged him to have a go. No words were exchanged. For some reason the pair didn't seem to need verbal cues to communicate. Grayson accepted the leaf in his small trembling hand. He had never heard Bruce shout before, but he had clearly heard several roared phrases through the crack under his bedroom door . "I will not accept that. You can't just take him away!... Then I'll see you in court!"

"When I was your age, I used to climb this tree," Bruce stated in the hushed tone that Dick had become accustomed to. "My mum and dad warned me that I'd fall but I never did." Bruce paused. He wasn't sure how to go about any of this. Maybe the social worker was right. He didn't know the first thing about raising a child. The billionaire looked down on the eight year old boy beside him. Dick's eyes were wide, his young face a blanket of worry. In that instant, Bruce dismissed the doubts. He may not know anything about raising children, but he knew in his heart that he was the only person who would be able to provide this particular child with the support and understanding he needed. "Relax, son. You're not in any trouble. I just wanted to talk to you. Do you like it here?"

Dick swallowed and shrugged. "I guess." His small heart was thundering in his chest. If they took him away, where would he have to go?

"Dick, I know I can never replace your parents and I know that Wayne Manor is no Haley's circus, but I hope you have felt welcome and happy here. " Dick's fear turned to confusion as his eyes brimmed with tears. He had no idea of what was going on. He just wished that everything would go back to the way it was, but he knew that was impossible.

Bruce laid his hand on the child's shoulder. "Alfred and I have been very happy since you've come to stay with us and if you agree, I'd like to make it permanent. I'd like you to live with us. What do you say? You don't have to, son. If you want to go…"

Dick launched himself into Bruce's arms and tears burst from his eyes.

Bruce was startled by the reaction. For a split second he froze, and then he wrapped the sobbing child in his arms. "Easy, chum. Easy. So, you want to stay with us?" It was important that he confirmed the child's wishes. The fight ahead would not be an easy one and would only be successful if Dick truly did want to remain in Bruce's care.

Dick's small arms encircled Bruce's neck and he held on tightly – held on like he'd never let go.

Bruce smiled with relief. He had hoped that Dick would choose to stay. "I'll take that as a 'yes', will I?" Gently he eased the child down onto his lap. "Yes?"

Dick nodded, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. "I thought you'd say I had to go."

"No one is going to make you go anywhere you don't want to. " Even if it took every cent he had, Bruce was determined to fight to the very end to keep this little boy. "It isn't official yet and we will have to go through court, but somehow we'll stay together. Okay?"

Dick nodded again. For several seconds they stared at each other - looking directly into the other's soul. Without warning, Bruce thrust his right hand out between them. Dick understood immediately. He laid his over the top and gripped Bruce's hand. Wayne placed his huge left hand on top of Dick's tiny fist and the child followed suit. Bruce's face became serious. "No matter what happens in the future, I will always be there for you, son. I promise."....

From that moment on, Dick's life became stable again. Gradually the pain of his parents' death eased to a dull ache and the emotional limbo he had been in was eroded by trust and a good helping of love.

Every time Dick came out here and stood under this tree he remembered that moment. He remembered the overwhelming relief and the great affection he had seen in Bruce's eyes that day. Bruce had tried to keep his promise, too. Perhaps not as successfully as he would have liked, but he had certainly tried.

Grayson clapped Wayne on the upper arm as he turned and walked towards the open paddock.

Bruce released a long breath. The cross he couldn't quite remember constructing lay discarded several feet from him. For the past few moments he had been reviewing exactly the same moment in time as Dick. It was here under the elm that Dick had agreed to enter his life. The billionaire's world had changed completely that day and Bruce thanked God for it.

Wayne stared down at the symbol of his loss. His heart rate increased rapidly as all of the pain and grief returned. Without conscious thought Bruce stamped down in the middle of the cross. Finality! The release of anger and a multitude of other emotions felt wonderful. The splintering sound of the timber echoed the release of tension in Wayne's body. Until now, he really hadn't considered anything except the fact that his son was home.

Across from him, he heard Dick whistle. Bruce glanced at the slightly hunched man who was leaning against a fence he had helped to erect, both arms across his chest to support his tightly bandaged ribs. The thundering of hoofs filled the air as Alegre galloped up toward his owner. The animal thrust its head through the fence and jammed it into Dick's chest. Bruce grinned.

"Owwww. Easy there, fella. You'll knock me over." The horse dipped its head again and shoved Dick. "Yeah, it's good to see you too." Dick caressed the animal fondly. "Come on, let's go for a walk. I could use some fresh air, but we'll have to take it slowly. I feel like I've been used as a punching bag." Gingerly he climbed though the rails and headed off with the horse.

Bruce's grin matured into a full smile. He watched his son, dressed in a pair of pyjamas, make his way down to the small creek, the huge black and white horse nudging him as they walked.

Wayne's chest quivered. It was like it had all never happened. Despite everything he had been told, unconsciously Bruce had never truly accepted that Dick was dead. Something deep down inside of him had refused to let go. It was more than just his need to have Dick around. It was something else. Something he and Dick had shared from the very first look they had exchanged. On that dreadful night when Dick had witnessed his parents' murder, Batman had approached the child, their eyes had met and their souls had touched. Bruce knew the child's pain and felt it to his core. Dick had sensed the understanding - he had found a kindred spirit.

Since that day, the pair had shared a bond that others could never understand and while logic had insisted that Dick was dead, and Bruce had allowed himself to acknowledge it, Wayne had still been able to sense the nebulous connection to his soul. A connection that had forced him to continue to look for his son on the plain leading to Gotham despite reason and common sense dictating that it was impossible for Dick to appear there - but he had.

VVVVVVVVVV 

Alegre's jet black coat shone, reflecting the midday sun equally as well as the small stream he was nimbly walking beside. Dick stared into the slowly flowing water as it jumped and danced over the rocks before tumbling into a deeper pool. This was his favourite place in the world. It was shrouded in trees and almost hidden from the outside world. The crystal clear waters were freezing and were so deep that he had never been able to dive to the bottom despite numerous attempts and a long-standing challenge with Bruce. It was here some ten years ago that Alfred had dared Dick to push Bruce in. While others weren't prepared to incur the wrath of Batman, it didn't worry Dick. He knew the man that was hidden behind that tough, emotionless exterior. On the day in question, Bruce had been in one of his dark moods and had only come down to the creek to locate Alfred. The butler had whispered the challenge and Dick had accepted readily.

The memory left a smile of satisfaction on Grayson's face. Wayne had dragged himself up the bank, his hair matted to his head, water cascading down his face. Not a word passed his tight lips as he made his way out of the water, glaring at Dick until the teenager had tackled him, taking him back into the pool a second time. After that, a great many words were roared and echoed in the peaceful area - none of which could be repeated in polite company.

Alfred had laughed so hard that day that he'd started choking and had to be rescued from the water.

As the memory faded, Dick reflected on just how long ago it was since he had enjoyed those days of innocence.

Bruce walked up to Dick. "Still haven't hit the bottom?"

"No. Not sure we ever will." His soft voice echoed a great sadness. There had been a time when he had honestly thought that it was possible... that everything in life was possible if you tried hard enough. Maturity had taught him how naive that was.

"When you feel up to it, I'd like to spend some time here again."

Grayson glanced at the older man, curiously. It wasn't what he had expected. In Wayne's blue eyes he saw turmoil. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Bruce dismissed, turning and stoking Alegre's head. "We really should go riding together more."

"Sounds good, but life doesn't present as much time as either of us would like," Dick pointed out.

"We need to change that, Dick. We have to." Again Bruce searched for the words he needed. "I have been so wound up in my life and what I wanted to achieve that I haven't really taken the time to... you and I haven't..." He was cut off by the screaming of his cell phone. For a split second he ignored it as he stared into Dick's bruised and confused face. Why was this so hard? The phone continued to ring, shattering the atmosphere. Finally, Bruce dug it from his pocket - part of him relieved, part frustrated.

"I better head back, Bruce. I'm feeling pretty tired."

Bruce nodded his understanding and watched Dick lead the horse back through the trees. "Hello!" Wayne snapped into the phone.

"Batman, all hell has broken loose in Gotham and..."

"I am sure that the police have a plan for dealing with it, Robin." Without waiting for a response, Bruce ended the call. He stood alone in the shadow of the trees, his head doing battle with his heart. Roy's words continued to repeat over and over again in his mind... _For Christ's sake, you replaced him. Not just Robin. You adopted Jason...The hell he understood...Is it so hard for you to show him?... You replaced him... the hell he understood.... you replaced him.... the hell he understood..._

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut. Was Roy right? Did Dick understand? Bruce was drowning in confusion and helplessness. There was so much he needed to say to his son, but he honestly didn't know where to start. Perhaps he should make a list?

VVVVVVVVVV 

When Bruce returned to the house, Dick was asleep. Leslie ushered Wayne out of resting man's room. "Don't wake him," she ordered. "He never should have gone off like that. It's too much too soon."

"So, did he tell you what happened?" Bruce asked.

Leslie eyed him curiously. "To what are you referring?"

Bruce frowned. "I'm not blind, Leslie. I was prepared to believe it was all a result of the river until I noticed his knuckles."

"Ahh. He didn't want to tell you," she admitted.

"I'm asking you to," Bruce requested. "I think I have a right to know."

"What transpires between a patient and his doctor..."

"Don't give me that, Leslie. I'm not asking you anything he won't tell me if I ask."

Leslie thought about it and then relayed the story. She waited for the explosive reaction Dick had predicted, but Wayne's face remained completely blank... eerily calm. "Stay with him. I need to go out for a while."

"Bruce, I'm not sure that is such a good idea. Why don't you..." But he was gone.

VVVVVVVVVV 

Leslie and Alfred watched the helicopter lift above Wayne Manor and arc west toward the wasteland. Leslie shook her head. Alfred sighed. "He must do what he sees fit. To be honest, I hope he pounds them to a pulp."

"Alfred!" Leslie cried, genuinely startled.

"I make no excuse for my comment, Leslie. What they did to Master Dick is inexcusable. I only regret that I will not be there to see it."

Leslie was stunned. She hadn't realized how deeply this was still affecting him. She, better than anyone, knew the great love Alfred had for both Dick and Bruce. The doctor slipped her arm around her longtime friend's back. "Dick is just fine, Alfred. I have no doubt that he will be causing problems for the two of us soon enough."

Alfred nodded. "We won't be able to keep him in that bed for much longer."

"I know." Leslie's thoughts returned to Bruce. "Thankfully, there is a lot of ground out there. He'll never find them."

"He has infrared tracking installed on the chopper. If there is anything alive out there, he'll find it." Alfred had seen the look on Bruce's face and he recognized it. Nothing would stop the billionaire tracking down the men who had attacked his boy. Nothing in this world and probably nothing in the next.

"He didn't go as Batman," Leslie noted.

The skin around Alfred's grey eyes wrinkled with concern. "I know."

"I shouldn't have told him," Leslie murmured with regret.

"He would have found out. Besides, he is simply going to explain the error of their ways," Alfred offered. "Painful, but superbly effective."

PART Eleven COMING SOON 

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I would really love to know what you thought.  


**© August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	11. Chapter Eleven

** WHEN HEROES GRIEVE  **  
  


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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

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Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.  
  


THIS STORY IS  NOT  A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

  
  
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Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. Thank you Stephanieff(), Missy May, Jen(), The People's Cat (for leaving feedback on every chapter), Cindy, skritchie, KTfanfic, Esther-Channah who I haven't been able to send personal thanks to because I don't have your e-mail address. Your comments and support and very much appreciated.  
  
Leahblueeyes my message to you keeps bouncing. I'm not sure why.

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** Part Eleven**

Bruce Wayne had experienced rage before, but nothing like this. This was something altogether different. Something raw and guttural that came, not from anger, but from guilt. He had failed to protect Dick at a time when his boy had needed him. Every parent has an innate drive to protect their child... and Bruce had failed. The fury at himself and those who had attacked Dick ignited in his heart as he set the chopper down on the uneven and unstable ground in the wasteland. For several seconds Bruce sat frozen. The moment he had detected the six men huddled under some concrete slabs abandoned in the no man's land, Bruce had felt the emotional control he had spent his life maintaining slowly slipping away. For the first time, he didn't try to stop it happening. He permitted his rage, guilt and grief to amalgamate into a single emotion without a name - the closest thing? The pits of hell itself.

With a single thought in mind - the annihilation of the spineless bastards who had beaten his son - Bruce stepped from the chopper and strode toward the artificial cave created by debris from the Earthquakes. Six men cautiously crawled from it. Even over the distance, the putrid smell of their unwashed bodies wafted across to Bruce. Their clothes were filthy and torn. Their bodies were battered and bruised. Dick had obviously given as good as he had got Wayne thought proudly, but then, he'd expect nothing less.

Bruce stopped walking and set his legs a shoulder's width apart. He glared at the despicable examples of the human race in front of him, his huge hands balling into fists. These mongrels had attacked Dick when he had been ill, exhausted and injured. Wayne's anger bubbled, close to reaching breaking point. He knew he needed to hold on to the final few threads of restraint until he was sure this was the group who had beaten Dick. Then he would _teach them the error of their ways._

"Did you come across a wounded man about a day or so ago?" he demanded. There was no true voice. Just air forced out through his tightly clenched jaw. The thugs exchanged wary glances.

The billionaire's eyes honed in on the wrist of one of the men. He was wearing a silver watch; the silver watch Alfred had given Dick for his 21st birthday. "You met an injured man a day ago," Bruce snarled. No longer was it a question. The veins in Bruce's neck stuck out like chords. He'd found them.

"Who wants to know?" one of the men growled.

"His father!" Bruce roared. The valve controlling Bruce's anger blew with spectacular effect. Judgment day had arrived. The battle that followed was short - total annihilation took less than 90 seconds.

VVVVVVVVVV

Night settled over Gotham, but it brought no respite. Robin pitched forward after taking a blow to the side of his head. Normally he would have dodged it, but there were so many and the teenager was exhausted - mentally, physically and emotionally. As he raised himself up onto all fours, he spotted the knife arcing toward him. Knowing he couldn't roll out of its path, he braced himself, but the blade was jarred loose by a well aimed blow from another party before it could descend. Robin raised his eyes as Arsenal leapt over him.

"Kid?" he cried, as he fended off another blow.

"I'm okay," Tim replied, dragging himself to his feet. He and Arsenal were surrounded and the mob was baying for blood.

"Robin, we need some help," Roy panted.

VVVVVVVV

Silently, Bruce deposited the silver watch on the small table beside Dick's bed, the glow of the hall light reflecting off Grayson's badly bruised face. That hadn't happened in the river, but Bruce could put it behind him now. He'd dealt with it. Not revenge exactly... justice.

As he removed his coat, Grayson stirred. Bruce smiled down at him. Dick glanced sideways and caught sight of the watch and shook his head. "I had intended going back to get it when I was feeling stronger."

"Well, now you don't have to."

Dick started to pull himself up, but only got a few inches before Bruce took his shoulders and lifted him. "Thanks."

"How do you feel?" Wayne asked, arranging the blankets around Dick.

"Better. Still tired." He grinned. "And just a little sore. Reckon I could use something to eat too."

Bruce drew in his breath and decided it was now or never. "I've got some things I need to tell you and..." He frowned.

"What?" Dick asked curiously. "If you're going to tell me that you and Selina are sleeping together, I already know." His lips parted in a sly smile and his eyebrows bounced. "If it isn't about time."

Bruce shook his head, his frustration growing. Every time he had tried to tell Dick what he needed to he got interrupted.

"Come on, Bruce, you can't lie to me. I can see straight through you. Besides..."

"No, this isn't about Selina. It's about... hell," he mumbled, beginning to pace.

Dick watched him and his concern prickled. "Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"No!" Bruce clamped his mouth shut. He hadn't meant to shout.

"Ooookaaay. It's none of my business. But then, it's never any of my business is it?" Dick pointed out softly.

Bruce stared at him, watching as the pain of rejection flashed across Dick's blue eyes before fading quickly. Bruce had almost missed it... almost. He had seen that look before. He remembered it distinctly from the night when Dick had been shot - that night when he had forced Dick out of life through fear. _You replaced him.... the hell he understood... _It was all such a mess. "That's just it," he whispered. "It is your business, Dick. All of it is your business. I... God, why is this so hard?"

Dick frowned.

At that moment, Alfred strode into the room, a newspaper tucked under his arm, his face lined with worry. "Sir. I have Master Timothy on the phone and..."

"Not now!" Bruce thundered. Alfred blinked. Bruce swallowed. "I'm sorry, Alfred." His eyes flashed a sincere apology for taking out his frustration on his old friend. Alfred's head bobbed once with understanding and acceptance of the apology. "Please tell him I'll ring back when I can."

"Sir, he said it was an emergency."

Bruce cursed quietly, rose to his feet and strode from the room. Soon such interruptions would be in the past, Wayne assured himself.

Alfred watched him and shook his head slowly.

"Alf?"

Alfred turned slowly and handed Dick the paper. "Gotham is falling apart. The dregs of society have banded together in Batman's absence."

Dick unfolded the paper and stared down at the three headlines on the front page. "_Anarchy Reigns", "Army sends for reinforcements" _and _"Commissioner Gordon's behind the scenes push for Batman memorial."_

"He has given up," Alfred explained. "Since he collapsed after searching for you he has ignored the plight in Gotham. When we found you, I had hoped that he would again become Batman both for his own and Gotham's sakes, but he has refused all calls for help from Master Timothy."

Dick raised his eyes to Alfred. "Tim's asking for help?" This was more serious than he had believed.

"Oh, no. No you don't," Alfred admonished, quickly. "You are not leaving that bed. You are injured. Master Timothy has help in the form of Arsenal but..."

"To stop it, it will require Batman," Dick murmured, scanning the paper. He couldn't believe things had become so bad so quickly. This is what a world without Batman would be like, he realized.

Bruce walked back into the room and froze when he spotted the newspaper. He had not looked at one for days, but he knew what was being said. Dick lowered the newspaper, his ice blue eyes holding the angry accusation. "What the hell is all of this?" Grayson demanded.

"All of what?" Bruce asked, quietly.

"Jim Gordon thinks you're dead!"

"He knows Bruce Wayne is alive."

Dick thrust the paper at Bruce. "And what about Batman?"

"Batman was a temporary band-aid on a problem I could not fix."

Dick's brow furrowed. There was so much defeat in his voice. Dick had heard Bruce's voice echo so many things but never defeat. "So that's it? You're throwing it all in? You're just going to curl up and die?"

"On the contrary," Bruce stated calmly, walking toward Dick and sitting down in the chair beside the bed. "I'm going to start living. Dick, I have spent so much of my life worrying about other people. I want to start worrying about me. Is that such a terrible thing?"

Dick eyed Bruce, carefully. "No," he admitted. "But... Bruce... Gotham needs you."

Wayne smiled with amusement and shook his head. "I had convinced myself of that, but the fact of the matter is, life goes on. Gotham didn't pause for a moment when it thought you had died... but I did. Dick, I want... I want us to spend more time together."

"That's going to be difficult because I'm going to be really busy," Grayson stated, harshly.

"Why?"

"I'm going to have to share my time between Bludhaven and helping Tim out in Gotham."

Bruce stared at him. "But..."

"I can't just turn my back on the people who depend on me, Bruce. And neither can you."

Wayne rose to his feet. "Yes we can! We're not doing it anymore, Dick. We can't keep fighting the battles of faceless people. I want to live a normal life. I want to spend time with the people who mean something to me. It isn't our responsibility to look after humanity."

"If we don't, who will?" The question hung and the silence that followed screamed in the room. Dick picked up the television remote control and turned the tv at the end of the bed on. Images of chaos filled the screen. He changed the channel. This one too showed Gotham at her worst. Dick continued to flick until he spotted someone he knew. Bruce's eyes were drawn to the screen which showed Commissioner Gordon conducting a press conference. Dick turned the volume up.

__

"... that the army is calling in reinforcements so they can take complete control of Gotham from you?" one of the two dozen reporters asked.

Jim Gordon's drawn face and tired eyes flashed with anger. He looked like he hadn't slept for days. "I have already explained to you that..."

"And is it true that the Joker is collecting together all of the criminals in the city to form a super criminal organisation?" another shouted.

"That is an unsubstantiated rumour. At the moment the police and army...."

"Still no Batman or Nightwing?" another reporter interrupted. "So are the Joker's claims true - that Nightwing is dead and Batman is too scared to face...

"That is a load of crap!" Gordon's ruddy face went redder. "If Batman was capable of helping us, he would!" Jim's own face flashed with surprise. It had slipped out. The department refused to acknowledge Batman's existence.

The Mayor stepped up to the microphone and quickly gave the official line. "Batman is nothing more than an urban legend. There is no evidence that such a man exists."

Jim dropped his head and he cursed. For years he had been forced to support that. He no longer could. Batman had been real... and he'd been a friend.

The reporters ignored the Mayor and continued to direct their questions at Commissioner Gordon.

"You've met Batman, Commissioner?"

"You know Batman exists?" Still Jim kept his eyes on his boots.

"So you believe he is dead?"

Gordon swallowed and raised his face. "He has to be. He wouldn't turn his back on us."

Dick glanced across at Bruce. Wayne's face was twisted with emotion. "They aren't so faceless are they?" Dick whispered.

Bruce looked across at his boy. "I can't do it, Dick. I feel for Jim, but… Batman was a dream I had. The dream became a nightmare. I set out to prevent others from losing their family and I couldn't even..."

Abruptly, the image on the television changed. The Joker's face leered at the millions of viewers, his cruel smile inches from the camera.

"_Greetings fellow Gothamites. This is your new Emperor. Emperor Joker. It's got a nice ring to it, doesn't it? At 10:00 this evening, I will be officially taking over Gotham. If Luthor can be President then I can be Gotham's Emperor." He laughed at the idea. "My first decree is simple. All prisoners will be turned loose. What beautiful mayhem it will cause. My second decree: all police and army to be obliterated. My third decree: well, that's about it. I have the allegiance of over five hundred decent, hardworking criminals in the city who are, at this very moment, making assaults on strategic positions around the city. The Mayor's office. The central police station. Gotham National Back. Wayne Corp. and a few others. Soooo, Bats if you have the guts to face me, I'll be right here waiting."_

The camera panned back, revealing Gotham stadium. The Joker was standing in the centre of the field.

"Let the reign of Gotham's Emperor begin!" The Joker began to laugh. The laughter built and built to crescendo

Without warning he stopped and lunged toward the camera. "I'm waiting Bats... if you have the guts to face me... and now we will return you to your normal viewing."

The image flickered and then the interview between Commissioner Gordon and the press reappeared.

Dick Grayson shot a look at his former guardian. Wayne was staring straight through the screen.

"Bruce, you can't let this happen."

Wayne rose to his feet and shook his head in true torment. "I can't. I..." He had failed. It was all too hard. He had seen what the storm had done. Watched as those who trusted him had been washed away... even his own son. His voice dropped to a whisper of agony. "I can't do it on my own, Dick."

Dick swung his legs over the edge of the bed and dragged himself upright with a grunt of pain. Alfred lunged forward to support the young man. "You aren't on your own, Bruce. You're right. It's too big for one man, but you knew that. That's why you assembled a team. They're out there waiting for your orders."

Bruce stared at Dick. In Wayne's face Grayson saw the first glimmer of belief.

"You took me in. You gave me a home, but more importantly, you gave me family and you taught me how to make a difference. To stand up for what I believed and... 'To fight against crime and corruption and never swerve from the path of justice.'"

Wayne's eyes grew wide. Those words! They were the pledge Bruce had made to himself the night he had first pulled on the cape. It was the oath he had made Dick take when he became Robin so many years before.

Dick gently pulled away from Alfred, stepped toward Bruce, waited until he had the older man's gaze and held it. "You started this, Bruce. Now you go and finish it," Grayson growled. Bruce stared from Dick to Alfred and back to Dick. Grayson nodded his encouragement.

Alfred walked forward and from his pocket he withdrew a small, handheld communicator. With a smile he handed it to his employer. "You will need this to assemble your team."

Bruce glanced at it and raised his eyes to Dick, still in two minds. He had stared his own mortality in the face the day he had lost his son. He had realized then that he had been defining himself by some arbitrary figure of the night he had created, rather than by the concrete relationships he shared with those he loved. For the first time, he had seen his life with perfect clarity. He had become the avenger of the night at the expense of everything else... everything including Dick.

Bruce drew in a long deep breath, his eyes drawn back to the television screen that showed his city in the grip of Armageddon_. "I can't just turn my back on the people who depend on me, Bruce. And neither can you." _His son's words had struck a chord.

Dick stepped closer, cutting off the view of the television and just as they had so many years before, his and Bruce's souls touched.

__

I understand what you're feeling, Bruce. But you have to be who you are. You can try to ignore it, but you can't hide from it. Batman is a part of you. An important part. Batman and Bruce Wayne can co-exist. We'll find a balance together, but right now, Batman is needed.

Wayne's face twisted. He understood every element of the message that Dick was communicating via the inexplicable connection they shared.

"I wish I could go with you, boss, but I'd only be in the way. Go on. A lot of people out there are depending on you."

Wayne reached out his hand and placed it on his son's shoulder. Dick was right on all accounts. Batman was a part of him he couldn't hide from. He had lost faith in himself, but his family had never doubted him. He had forgotten his mission, but his son had been there to renew his focus. He would need Dick's help to find the balance he needed, but it was obvious that wouldn't be a problem.

Just as important was the fact that Dick had reminded him that he wasn't alone.

Bruce turned to Alfred who nodded. The elderly man could see the change immediately. It shone from Bruce's eyes. "It is good to have you back, Sir."

"Go get'em," Dick encouraged with a relieved grin.

Bruce squeezed Dick's shoulder, nodded once, strode from the room and raised the communicator to his lips. The voice that came from him was deep and echoed absolute authority. "Oracle, Batman. Open all channels. I need to speak to everyone NOW."

Dick and Alfred watched Batman go - there was no mask or cape, but then the mask itself had little to do with it. Batman was something that came from deep down within Bruce. The person who had just left Dick's bedroom was Gotham's Dark Knight.

The butler assisted Dick back down onto the bed and then handed him a second communicator. "I thought you may like to know what's going on."

Dick grinned. "You were pretty sure of yourself, weren't you, Alf?"

Alfred feigned innocence as he tucked the blanket around his charge. "I have no idea of what you mean, Sir." Dick's eyes narrowed. Alfred winked at him. "I knew that if I told you of the trouble you would be able to find him. You found him once when he was lost. I knew you would again. Thank you."

Dick nodded and whispered, "He found me when I was lost, a long time ago." Grayson smiled at Alfred. "And so did you."

Alfred patted Dick's arm as the younger man turned on the communicator.

"_Understood, Batman," _Huntress acknowledged.

"Catwoman, Wayne Corp."

"I don't remember volunteering to help," she snapped.

"I don't have time for games, Catwoman."

"It will cost you a dinner," she shot. For several moments there was silence.

"Done," Batman whispered.

A sly smile formed on Dick's pale face. "The woman is right for him. When the hell will the big dumb lug realize that?"

"I get the feeling he is beginning to," Alfred chuckled.

__

"Arsenal, Gotham National Bank."

"Yo," was the only response.

"Robin, Police Central. They'll be going after Jim. I want you to get him out of there."

"Yes, Sir. Welcome back, Boss." There was a mixture of relief and excitement in Tim's voice.

__

"Oracle, I need a couple of camera crews sent to Gotham Stadium."

"Camera crews? Understood... Anything else?" she asked.

"Not at the moment. Keep an eye on things and keep me informed. The rest of you, once you have secured your location, report back to me. We need to break this open tonight."

"Let's do it!" Robin cried.

"All for one and one for all!" Roy shouted.

Alfred took the communicator from Dick's hand. "Now, you lay back and sleep."

"Not sure I'll be able to. They've got a hell of a job ahead of them." It wasn't going to be easy. Batman couldn't be everywhere at once, but that was what was needed. Not because Bruce could physically stop every criminal in the city but because the moment they realized he was back they would slink back to where they'd come from. Bruce needed all hands on deck if he was to pull this off. "I really should be out there with them."

Alfred adjusted the pillow behind Dick's head as the injured man stiffly slid down in the bed. "Out of the question. As you said yourself, you'd just be in the way."

Dick scowled.

"Besides, I don't see what is worrying you. Tim is excited. Catwoman is keeping Batman on his toes. Roy is acting like a child. Oracle is monitoring everything and will keep the team well informed and Batman is going to recapture the Joker. All is as it should be."

Dick sighed deeply and shut his eyes. He felt exhausted and his battered body was craving sleep. "You'll keep me up-to-date?" Dick checked.

"Should there be anything I feel you should be told, I will wake you."

One of Dick's eyes opened. "Why don't I believe that?"

"Because I am lying though my teeth," Alfred chuckled. "Relax, son. They can handle it. They always do. Your need to rejoin them will only be fulfilled once you have permitted your body to mend and that is going to require generous amounts of slumber."

Dick lay for a few more seconds, cursed and then grimaced uncomfortably as he sat up. "Can you turn the tv on?" Despite the fatigue harassing him, he had to know what was going on.

"Welcome to my world," Alfred muttered. Waiting and wondering was something Alfred had learned to deal with over the years. "Son, you need to rest. Dr. Thompkins said it was essential. Watching what is happening out there will only..." He could see that his words were a waste of time. Then again, Alfred was aware of the fact that Dick was fighting a losing battle with sleep. In a few minutes, the wounded man would succumb, despite his desire to remain awake. Alfred picked up the remote control and handed it to his stubborn patient. "You're impossible."

"I do my best," Dick agreed, smiling. The smile faltered and fell as the screen filled with scenes of Gotham in torment. "Maybe I should call in the Titans?"

"With all due respect, Master Dick, would that not give the impression that Batman has lost control. He must handle this his way."

"What if he can't handle it?" Dick whispered, watching images of gangs of hoodlums roaming the streets turning over cars and smashing windows. Things were really bad this time.

Alfred sat down on the edge of the bed. "He will handle it. He knows what he's doing." After a few minutes, Alfred took the remote from his weary patient's hand as Dick began blinking.

Behind them, the Joker's face filled the screen again as he bypassed normal programming.

__

"Knock, knock?" he asked.

A voice from off screen answered, "Who's there?"

"Not Batman." The Joker began laughing. His laughter built and built causing tears to stream down his face. "Not Batman," he repeated. "You're afraid, aren't you, you great night rat? I'm waiting for you. I'm ready. You're new emperor is waiting.... and again we return you to your regular viewing."

Dick frowned. "I'm ready," he mumbled, quietly. Grayson released his breath slowly. "Not, waiting. He's ready. He knows Batman will come."

"I'm sure he does. He..."

Again, the transmission was interrupted and the Joker began singing to the tune of Frere Jacques.

__

"Bats isn't coming. Bats isn't coming.

No he's not. No he's not.

He doesn't want to face me

He knows he can't beat me

Bats is dead. Bats is dead.

And if he isn't dead," the Joker snarled, his song finished. "He's a coward." Dramatically he threw down a glove. "I'm challenging you, Batman. Winner takes Gotham. Loser... dies!"

Alfred switched off the television, turned to the silent bed and sighed. It had been inevitable.

PART Twelve COMING SOON 

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I would really love to know what you thought.  


** © August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	12. Chapter Twelve

** WHEN HEROES GRIEVE  **

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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

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Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)

WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this. 

THIS STORY IS  NOT  A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

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Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Please forgive me for being absent so long. Real live threw a curve ball and then work got in the way... but I'm back now.

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** Part Twelve**

The Gotham Central Police Station was a ten story structure that took up an entire block in the middle of the city. It was one of those unfortunate buildings that had been added to and extended over the years due to 'increased public demand'. The architects hadn't done a bad job of making the new mesh with the old, but Robin couldn't help dwelling on the fact that despite Batman's best efforts, another extension was planned.

The teenager looked down on the scene below. The station was surrounded by a growing crowd of people plied with alcohol and brandishing weapons. They were shouting taunts to the police, the Commissioner's name being yelled above all others. They wanted his blood, just as Batman had anticipated. The leaders of the mob, who were working directly for the Joker, were standing atop the stairs handing out alcohol and firing the others up into a frenzy.

The boys and girls in blue had barricaded themselves inside for their own protection, waiting for reinforcements to arrive - from where, Robin couldn't be sure. Many of the street lights had been smashed by the rioting mob and total darkness would have blanketed the area if not for the moon illuminating the scene with eerie, moving shadows.

"Batman, Robin, reporting. I'm across the road and it's bad. I'm going in via the roof. I'll evacuate the Commissioner the same way. Where do you want me to take him?"

"Use your initiative," was the deadpan response.

"Great," Tim muttered.

Moments later, the lithe form landed on the roof of the station and jogged toward the fire exit that led down into the building. Three policemen leapt out from behind an air-conditioning unit, their revolvers drawn.

"Freeze!"

"Hold your fire," Tim ordered calmly. He'd expected sentries to be posted on the roof.

The officers peered at the figure and then lowered their weapons. "Robin!"

"Jesus Christ, Kid, we almost shot you."

"The Commissioner," the teenager snapped. "I need... " There was a collective gasp from the street which sent Robin and the policemen racing to the edge of the building. All of the faces below were tilted skyward. Robin followed the inclination of their heads and a smile of relief creased his lips. Standing atop the building next door was a single and unmistakeable figure.

"Batman!" The word rang out and built among the crowd, repeated over and over again.

Tim watched as the crimefighter pulled his cape out with dramatic effect. A huge shadow in the shape of a bat's wings fell over the crowd below as a result of the moon shining behind Batman. Instantly, there were shrieks and cries and then the crowd began to disperse... rather quickly. Only a handful held their ground. The police inside watched the retreat, opened the doors and rushed out to deal with the few remaining troublemakers.

One of the policemen beside Robin sighed long and deep. "Thank, God."

Tim didn't know what had changed his mentor's mind, though he suspected Dick had something to do with it. The thought of his friend lifted Robin's spirits. _We missed you, bro. _

A second of the policemen turned to Robin and smiled. "Batman's back."

The teenager matched the officer's smile with his own, watching as the crowd scattered, their eyes still searching the rooftops for the creature of the night that had disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared. "Yep. He's back and as Nightwing would say, he still needs to work on his 'people skills'"

VVVVVVVVVV

Batman continued to swing across _his _city. Robin had been wrong. It wasn't chaos that gripped Gotham. It was terror, pure and simple. Normally, the Dark Knight clung to the shadows. Tonight, he sought the light. Word began to spread like wildfire. Telephone switchboards were overloaded. News stories changed. Every television is the city was on and filled with newscasters saying the same three words. "Batman is back!"

"Oracle?" Bruce demanded.

"Dad's safe. The riot around the station has been broken up, but Robin evacuated him anyway. Under protest by the sound of it. Both Huntress and Batgirl have secured their targets. Arsenal was on top of things at the last report. I haven't heard from Catwoman yet. The streets are clearing. Reports of Batman sightings are flooding in. Mainly in Central Gotham. But also in the West and North. You really must be moving out there." Oracle suspected that was only part of it. Once people heard that Batman was back, every shadow would be perceived to be Gotham's protector. Criminals were once again quaking with fear. Their worst nightmare had returned.

Batman's brow furrowed under his mask as he peeled back his glove and glanced at his watch. It was twenty minutes to 10:00. Bruce didn't know why the Joker had chosen that particular time, but he knew he needed to stop his archenemy before then. No doubt the Joker had something spectacular planned.

"Oracle, I'm moving to the stadium. Do you have the camera crews in place?"

"Yes. Both helicopters are ready to fly."

"Are you able to bypass all other local programming so that only the transmissions from those two crews are being shown across the city?"

"Yes."

"Can you jam the Joker's coverage?"

"Yes. Batman, you've never appeared on camera before." There had never even been a photograph of Batman taken.

"It's a risk that needs to be taken." If Batman was to bring back peace to the city, not only the criminals, but the everyday citizen needed to see him and they needed to see him defeat the Joker. "Can you delay the telecast by two minutes?"

"I... yes, I think I can. Why?"

"I need you to edit what is being beamed to the city. No close-ups of me at all. Only long shots."

"Understood. I'll inform the news crews that if they don't follow your 'rules' their pictures will be edited out."

"Good. I assume the army is in place?"

"Yes. The entire area around the stadium has been evacuated in a two block radius and the army are preventing anyone from entering the no-go zone. Anything else?"

"No...and Barbara, I couldn't have done this without you."

For several moments there was silence. When Barbara spoke again, her voice was choked with emotion. "I better see if I can get this set up. Oracle out."

VVVVVVVVVV

Having received the signal to lift off, the news crews, both from the same local television station, climbed into their choppers and headed across town to Gotham Stadium.

"It's coming up on our right," one of the pilots announced. The cameraman and reporter aboard stared out the window. Below them was the huge oval-shaped stadium built specifically for the Olympics which had been held in Gotham five years earlier. The outer walls bent at a forty-five degree angle at the top, extending several feet over the seating area to provide protection from the weather and sun. Ninety percent of the stadium was in complete darkness. Only one of the twelve light towers was switched on, illuminating a small section of the field.

"There's the Joker! Zero the camera in on him,"

The camera man did. "He's waving. The crackpot is waving to us."

"According to our source, Batman is going to show up any minute. And remember not to zoom in on him or we'll only be broadcasting static!"

VVVVVVVVVV

The Joker smiled a real smile of satisfaction at the choppers buzzing around like gnats in the moonlight. The fools were waiting for Batman to show up. Their protector. Their Dark Knight. All of their hopes for salvation rested on him. It was pathetic. There was a part of the Joker that expected Batman to miraculously appear. Perhaps even a part of him that hoped he would - for prosterity's sake. No victory was truly complete unless it involved Batman. Winning Gotham was a means to an end. Defeating Batman... watching him die; now that was the closest thing to Utopia the Joker could think of. However, it had been almost two weeks since the Joker's nemesis had been seen. If Batman was alive, the madman was convinced he would have stuck his vigilante nose in things by now. In the last week and a half only the kid had been seen. No Nightwing. No Batgirl and no Batman. None of them would have left the kid on his own unless they were all dead.

Still, if Batman was alive and did show up, that would play nicely into the Joker's hands and provide the creme de la creme of his accession to the 'throne'.

"What time is it?" the Clown Prince of Crime shouted to his cameraman. They were the only two people on the field itself. Standing around the outside of the sports ground were twenty men, all waiting for a piece of Batman. In the stands was the Joker's back-up plan. About thirty feet to the criminal mastermind's left was a crude, freestanding wall made of old car bodies. It would play an important part in the Joker's plans later if Batman chose to spoil the party.

"Forty seconds, Emperor Joker."

The Joker purred at the title. Forty seconds until ten o'clock. His underlings knew they had to have all of the major targets around the city secured by then. The men he had selected wouldn't fail him. They were professionals and knew their lives depended on it... literally. One of them had tried to tell him something about Batman being spotted in the city, but the Joker had dismissed that as the last flailing efforts of the police force or Robin trying to scare him and reassure the people. Once the Joker had control of the handful of key places in Gotham the masses would begin to run around in a mad panic. The release of all the prisoners would add to the chaos. Then, the Joker would watch Batman's pride and joy slip into the pits of hell. That was what he wanted. That was his aim - to watch Gotham City self-destruct.

"Ten seconds, Emperor."

The Joker picked up the black and white royal cape he'd had one of his men 'acquire' from a costume shop and slung it around his shoulders. He straightened his tie and smiled broadly at the camera. He wanted to look his best.

"Three... two... one... you're on."

Across the city, all stations were filled with the Joker's image.

"Good evening, unworthy subjects. It is your Emperor. The clock has struck ten and Batman is nowhere to be seen. Why, do I hear you ask? The answer is simple. He's dead. DEAD!" The Joker began to laugh. His laughter reached fever pitch. The chopper above swooped lower for a better view.

The Joker waved. "Now, let us..."

"JOKER!" The word echoed around the stadium. A voice of depth and authority... one the Joker knew all too well. He spun around as Batman stepped from the shadows and strode toward him.

The Crown Prince of Crime grinned evilly. He was pleased. Now the joy of watching Batman die would be his. For a split second, the Joker flicked his eyes to the right and then the left. A signal, Batman suspected. Or was he checking on something? Batman could see the small army around the field beginning to move in.

"Well, what do you know? The night rat is alive."

Across the city there were cheers. The cheers rose above Gotham to amalgamate into a single buzz that vibrated around the dark streets. Even in the stadium, despite the two blocks around him being evacuated, the Joker could hear the din.

Batman stopped several feet from the pasty-faced criminal. The Joker raised his hand to stop the approach of his twenty-man army brandishing iron bars.

Batman sent his senses out beyond that group. It wasn't like the Joker to reveal all his cards at once. There was movement in the darkened stands. Maybe a dozen men spread out around the circumference hiding in the shadows ready to attack. The sound of a rifle bolt shifting some 200 metres away drew Batman's attention. He tensed ready to move, but he allowed his eyes to settle back on the Joker. It was obvious that nothing would happen without the Joker's direct order. The wall of steel stood twenty feet away. No doubt that was where the Joker would retreat when the 'show' started. Silently, Batman began to plan his own retreat if it was necessary.

Gotham's protector had heard the muffled cheer. His city was behind him. Now, it was time to take it back!

"It's over, Joker. Oracle."

VVVVVVVVVV

Barbara Gordon hit a single key on the keyboard in front of her, severing the Joker's television transmission. Immediately she began relaying images from the choppers; images taken a few minutes earlier. The people of Gotham could no longer hear the conversation between Batman and the Joker and neither could Oracle. She had hoped that Batman would leave his communicator on so she could listen to exactly what was going on, but it wasn't to be. Like the rest of Gotham City, she was going to have to rely on the commentary from the reporters circling above the stadium.

VVVVVVVVVV

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"Ladies and gentlemen, it IS Batman. I repeat, it IS Batman," the reporter announced, his voice high-pitched with excitement. "I'd give a million dollars to know what they're saying to each other, but we are only allowed video footage and only at a distance and you are seeing this live on Channel 7, the People's Channel."

VVVVVVVVVV

The Joker's eyes narrowed, but the hideous smile remained. "Do you think you've won, Batman?" the Joker asked, with interest.

"Your video signal is being jammed. All other programming across the city has been bypassed. The only picture on televisions across the city is the one leaving this stadium via the choppers above." His voice was emotionless. Batman was well and truly back in control.

Movement in the stand again. A whisper only. Batman guessed that the Joker's concealed men were moving into better positions.

"Then they will show your death live," the Joker spat. "We shall see who is cheering by the end of the night."

"I've had word from my team that your thugs are under arrest. The riots have stopped. The rioters are returning to their homes to sleep off their hangovers. Gotham is returning to normal."

"No. No, it isn't going to happen that way because the world is about to see your death telecast on every television in the country." The Joker had begun moving to his right toward the wall of steel. His little black eyes were darting around the stadium, the smile on his face deepening in anticipation.

The small rent-an-army began to shift restlessly.

Another rifle bolt slid into place with a thunk, echoing in the silence. A scraping sound. An intake of breath. Batman's eyes narrowed slightly. Something strange prickled at his senses. He glanced up into the stands.

The Joker quickened his step. "That's right, Bats. We're not alone. I may be a certified lunatic but I'm no fool. You don't think I'd been stupid enough to come unprepared. You are going to die and then Gotham will be mine."

"My death won't change anything. I don't work alone. My team will carry on its mission ''to fight against crime and corruption and never swerve from the path of justice.'"

The Joker threw his head back and laughed, stopping beside the iron wall. "Bats you live in a fantasy world. Do you practise sayings like that? Have them written down in a book? Your team _failed_. Only the kid has been following your path of justice."

"They were grieving." The words were whispered, more for Bruce's sake than the Joker's. He knew that eventually each member of his hand-selected team would have returned to duty. Oracle and Robin already had. Batgirl had been on her way back. Huntress and Catwoman had simply been waiting for someone to take charge. Arsenal had been a bonus, but he was there for Dick's sake. A gold pen call. Bruce had no idea of what it meant. It was just another example of the love and loyalty the original Titans shared. A pure and unquestioned trust and steadfastness that the likes of the JLA with all of its arbitrary rules and need for public acceptance could never achieve. The original Titans put each other first and be damned with what the world thought. They were a family. They would stand by each other no matter what the consequences... no matter what the outcome. Their love for each other was their strength. The opposite was true for their senior colleagues. The members of the JLA put the needs of their organisation first. They were a business. They shared friendships but had never allowed themselves to consider each other family. Their ability to remain aloof on many levels was their strength. That was the difference between the two groups. That was why Wally West had had so much trouble adjusting when he had moved from one to the other.

Dick had been largely responsible for fostering the relationship between the Titans, and Bruce the one among the JLA. It spokes volumes about how the two men defined themselves and viewed others. Now, however, Bruce Wayne was re-evaluating his worldview.

The sound of movement in the stands distracted Batman and brought his thoughts back to the situation at hand.

"The time for grieving is over. Call your men off, Joker. They can't escape."

VVVVVVVVVV

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"They just seem to be talking, though the Joker has moved toward some great structure. Not sure what it is. Batman hasn't moved. There is only one other man visible. A cameraman by the look of it. Hang on, the cameraman has left his camera and is running toward the stadium. No, wait, I think there are other men down there. Yes! Zoom in on the men... not on Batman. Good Lord. A mob of men with weapons. Looks like we are going to see Batman in action. Ladies and gentlemen, you are viewing Gotham's 'urban legend' for the first time live on Channel Seven!"

VVVVVVVVVV

The Joker's eyes became harsh. "Not this time, Batman. This time, I get to win. I don't just have those two dozen morons waiting to beat you to a pulp. I have twelve sharpshooters in the stands around you. On my signal they're going to fill you with so much lead you'll be able you use your dick for a pencil... I saw that line in a movie once and loved it."

Batman said nothing, taking a pair of handcuffs from his utility belt. He felt no need to look for cover. The sharpshooters were no longer a concern. The rent-an-army too would be dealt with in time. "Here's my favourite line from the movies. 'You are under arrest.'"

The Joker's face flashed with rage.

"It's over, Joker."

"Sharpshooters. Now!" the criminal mastermind shouted, darting to the left and diving behind the specifically erected wall that would protect him from the bullets about to rain down on Batman like hail. His army of goons hit the ground.

There was silence.

"Now!" the Joker repeated.

Still nothing.

The Joker poked his head out from behind the wall, his eyes searching the stands. "What's wrong with you? Do you want an engraved invitation?! Shoot him!"

VVVVVVVVVV

__

"Wait a minute. Something's happening. The Joker has just dived behind a wall. The mob has dropped to the ground.... no, The Joker's come back out again. Looks like he's searching the stands for something."

Unlike the rest of Gotham, Barbara had the privilege of truly watching things live. So far, neither of the camera men had zeroed in on Batman so her job was easy. They were obeying Bruce's rules. Oracle sat and watched, frowning at the screen. Her hatred for the Joker festered. She watched as the vile creature who had taken so much from her reappeared from behind the wall.

Barbara smiled. Clearly the Joker had had men ready to attack from the stands, but Batman must have them covered.

VVVVVVVVVV

"Shoot him! SHOOT HIM!" the Joker bellowed, searching the darkness for his snipers.

The only sound to greet the enraged psychopath was silence and then the tune of Frere Jacques wafted on the air from the shadows.

__

"Bats is alive. Bats is alive.

Yes he is. Yes he is.

He is here to face you

He knows he can beat you

The Joker has lost. The Joker has lost.

The Joker's eyes grew wide. A blue and black clothed figure launched into the air on the end of a fine line. At the top on his arc, he let go of the rope, flipped twice and landed beside Batman with a slight grunt of pain.

"NOOOO. You're dead! They told me you were dead!"

Nightwing grinned and winked at the Joker. "The rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated." He glanced at Batman, a very self-satisfied smile on his bruised face. "Sorry I'm late, boss."

Without taking his eyes off his enemy, Batman shook his head. "I thought we decided that you would stay in bed."

"No you decided... and I lied," Nightwing chirped.

VVVVVVVVVV

Barbara's eyes narrowed. She watched a small blur appear from the shadows... watched the body arc with perfection. Only one man alive could move with that sort of grace.

"Nightwing? Oh my.... DICK!" Her hand flashed to the screen, her fingers touching his minute half an inch image. For a split second she sat frozen and then her emotions exploded. He was alive! DICK WAS ALIVE! Without warning, she found herself aboard a roller coaster ride of emotions. She moved almost instantly from shock to euphoria, to pure joy... to concern, to confusion, to anger and finally rage.

He was alive! Was this part of some plan of Batman's? Why the hell hadn't she been taken into their confidence? WHY THE HELL HADN'T DICK LET HER KNOW?!

Final Part COMING SOON 

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I would really love to know what you thought.

** © August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

** WHEN HEROES GRIEVE  **

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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

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Author Comment: Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)

WARNING: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this. 

THIS STORY IS  NOT  A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

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Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have joined me on the journey. Your words of support and encouragement mean so much. 

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APOLOGIES: I'm so sorry about the delay again. It is a long story, but I've ended up going away to the beach a week earlier than expected... at the moment I'm in an internet cafe at a shopping centre. (g) Last night, while writing on my laptop I realized I had't posted the last part of Heroes so I saved it on a disk and here I am. Please forgive me for not reponding to reviews yet. I will do so as soon as I get home. MERRY CHRISTMAS. 

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** Part Thirteen**

The Joker's mouth hung open in astonishment, his cherry-red lips forced into a smile by a deformity he had no control over. However, his eyes flashed rage for the world to see. "KILL THEM! ALL OF YOU, GET THEM. GET THEM!!" he screamed.

Batman glanced at Nightwing. "Are you up to this?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Dick cried, moving to his left. The mob bearing down on them divided into two.

"That isn't what I asked," Batman rebuked, his eyes critically assessing his partner. The mob let out a roar as they advanced.

"You said you wanted us to spend more time together," Nightwing pointed out, unconsciously counting his opponents who were swiftly closing the gap.

"This is not exactly what I meant," Batman replied.

"You really need to be more specific then, Batman. I'm not a mind-reader," Dick admonished with mock disgust.

Bruce sighed in exasperation, but there was a smile on his face. This was like old times - outnumbered, his boy cracking jokes at his side. It didn't get much better than this.

"Bet I bag more bad guys then you," Dick challenged, charging the mob.

"You're on," Batman countered, watching with pride as his son gracefully ducked under the blow of a thug, disarmed a second and sent four others crashing to the ground as he launched himself straight up into the air and kicked out in an arc.

"Five to me," Nightwing cried.

Batman waited for his attackers to come to him. The first few tried to tackle him but bounced off like rabbits hitting a semi-trailer. Only then did Batman enter the fray. His punches were strategic, jaws shattering as they connected with his iron fists.

The communicator in Nightwing's glove sprang to life.

VVVVVVVVVV

"YOU'RE ALIVE," Barbara screamed at Nightwing. She was beyond rage. There was absolutely no excuse for what he'd put her through. While she accepted that Batman was probably responsible, Dick was a grown man and he could and should have made sure she was informed. "You couldn't find a phone? Didn't you think you could trust me? Do you have any idea..."

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"Oracle? Hey, Pretty Lady," Grayson responded. Oracle watched him flip over a group of goons, land behind them and then sweep their legs out, shouting his growing tally to his partner.

"Don't Pretty Lady, me. I don't want to hear it. I thought you were dead and..."

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"Huh?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Nightwing. I..." She paused. Her eyes narrowed. A frown of confusion settled on her beautiful face. She had to be mistaken. It sounded as though... he was! Nightwing was singing!

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"You are my sunshine..." Two more thugs bit the dust. _"My only sunshine..." _His knuckles found the soft belly of an attacker who doubled over. _"You make me happy..." _He thrust his elbow back to take out the man sneaking up behind him. _"When skies are grey..."_

Barbara reached out for the screen, fingering the inch high figure who was singing to her as he went about doing what he did best. Her heart melted and her anger drained away.

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"You'll never know, dear..." His nunchakus danced across the bodies of those attacking him, but he didn't miss a single off-key note.

"I love you," Barbara whispered.

"_That's a relief," _he stated simply. _"Now, Pretty Lady, as much as I'm sure you'd love..." _he grunted as a blow connected with his left shoulder. He spun around and his fist flashed. _"Lights out, pal. Yeah, as much as I'm sure you'd love to hear the rest of my outstanding karaoke, I'm afraid it will have to wait. I'm a bit busy. I'll meet you back at base."_

Barbara felt tears welling in her eyes. He was alive. God, she loved him. "I'm leaving now... be careful... and have fun."

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"Always," he chirped. "_Oh, and as the song says, you'll never know dear, how much I love you..."_

VVVVVVVVVV

It took less than three minutes for Batman and Nightwing to dispense with the Joker's brainless goons. The Joker decided to make a run for it, but didn't get very far before Batman snapped cuffs onto him and secured him to the metal wall erected in the middle of the field.

Then Gotham's protectors tied up the 'Emperor's' men and collected the dozen sharpshooters Nightwing had dealt with earlier. All the while the Joker continued to rant and curse.

"That's it?" Nightwing asked, moaning involuntarily as he stretched his back.

Batman eyed him carefully. Dick was pale. His lips were set in a grimace and he looked exhausted. It had been too much, too early. "Time to take you home," the older man declared.

Nightwing glanced at his partner and smiled wearily. He was ready to concede.

The fallen emperor of Gotham stared at the pair bewildered.

"You lied to me," he cried, glaring at Batman. "They all lied to me. They said you were both dead."

Before Dark Knight could comment, Commissioner Gordon arrived leading a squad of uniformed officers. The fatigued policemen all shared the same smile of triumph. The day could not have started any worse, but it had ended in victory for the good guys.

"Take him away," Gordon growled, inclining his greying head toward the Joker. He, Batman and Nightwing watched as the still ranting captive was cuffed with the rest of this men and led away. Jim turned to Batman and offered his hand. "You had me worried, old friend."

Batman drew in a deep breath and his head bobbed once in a silent apology. He could never explain just how sorry he was for leaving his friends and his city unprotected.

Gordon glanced at Nightwing and shook his head. "You look dreadful."

Dick laughed. "Thanks a whole hell of a lot, Commissioner."

The police commissioner grinned, his own relief surfacing. He had almost lost his city. "It is good to see you both." He paused, trying to find the appropriate words. "You turned it all around in just one night. I don't know how you do it, but... I .... 'thank you' no longer covers it."

"It always has," Batman stated, walking past Gordon and slapping him on the shoulder.

"It always will," Nightwing added, following his partner.

"Why?" Jim asked, perplexed. He realized he really didn't understand. Why did the Dark Knight do it?

It was Nightwing who paused and glanced back. "Because he's Batman." The young vigilante winked and then continued on his way.

Jim Gordon nodded, more than content with the answer. "Because he's Batman."

VVVVVVVVVV

Across Gotham there were celebrations and commiserations. The city's urban legend had been beamed into everyday people's homes. While the image had been minute - little more than a smudge, Gotham's citizens had seen it. Now, they knew Batman was real. Now, they knew their hero was back.

For the criminal element there was a sense of dread. Rumors of their nemesis' return had been confirmed. Tomatoes, glasses of beer and numerous other items were thrown at television screens as the city's scum witnessed Batman capturing the Joker.

In a small apartment in the centre of Gotham City, Hugo Strange watched with a certain amount of satisfaction. He was pleased to see Batman win the day, for in Strange's demented mind, _he _was Batman. However, the feeling of euphoria sweeping over him related to something else - something he had learned in his meeting with Bruce Wayne at the Manor a few short days earlier. Something that held the key to the victory that consumed his every waking thought. For as long as Hugo Strange could remember, he had been searching for a way to unlock Wayne's psyche so he could defeat the impostor and take his rightful place as the true Batman.

The television in front of the psychotic psychiatrist continued to replay snippets of the evening's events. The intense eyes of Strange zeroed in on Nightwing and a triumphant smile of evil settled on his face.

He had found the key.

VVVVVVVVVV

Nightwing and Batman slipped out through the darkness, bypassing the crowd that had formed around the stadium.

"How did you get here?" Batman asked as he and his partner approached the Batmobile.

"Bike. I sent it home earlier. Thought I'd grab a lift with you. Been a long time since I've had a ride in the Batmobile," Dick chuckled.

Batman disarmed the vehicle and opened the door for Nightwing. He took his partner's arm and guided Dick into the car.

"I'm okay, Batman."

"Let me be the judge of that," the older man ordered.

Dick rolled his eyes and waited for Bruce to get in behind the wheel.

"I take it the Batman sightings reported in the north and west were you, in one of my extra suits?"

Dick nodded. He'd realized that to calm the city Batman needed to be seen by as many people as possible and so he had headed out to the north side in one of Bruce's suits and worked his way west. It had worked.

"Thank you. I couldn't have done it without you." The words were soft and sincere.

Dick glanced at Bruce and sighed. "Yes you would have, but I wasn't about to let you take all of the credit."

Batman started the engine.

"Why didn't you tell Barbara I was alive?... Batman?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

"Well you better come up with the world's greatest excuse because she wants blood."

"I'll speak to her."

"Good, because I don't want to do any more singing. You know how much I hate singing."

Batman's left eyebrow raised curiously under his cowl. "Singing?"

"Don't ask." Dick swallowed and let his head rest back against the seat. His body was aching and he felt exhausted but there was a certain amount of relief too. Bruce was back to his old self, Gotham was safe and Barbara loved him. Equilibrium had returned to his world.

"Relax. I'll have you home in twenty minutes," Batman assured.

"Home sounds good. Bed sounds even better... of course, I do feel a bit hungry."

Without warning, the monitor in the dashboard sprang to life with an image of an unusually rattled Alfred.

"Sir?"

"Go on, Alfred," Bruce instructed.

"Sir, we have a small problem here." A throng of voices rose up behind the elderly butler.

Dick opened his eyes and looked down at the monitor. "What's going on there?"

"I am being inundated with visitors. It seems that word of Master Nightwing's return has travelled far and wide and..." The face of Wally West lunged in front of Alfred, beaming a smile from his soul.

"Hey, Dick!"

Grayson grinned. "Hey, Wally."

"Get out of the way," a voice ordered from off screen.

"I'm talking here," Wally protested.

"Out of the way!" Suddenly, Wally disappeared and was replaced by Donna. Her concerned eyes lit up with relief when she spotted Nightwing via the camera. "Oh, honey. Thank God. I... is that bruising on your face?"

"I'm fine, Donna."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Can't wait to see you," she sobbed.

"We'll be home..." Before Dick could finish, a green rabbit bounced up in front of Donna's face.

"Nightwing! Scared the shit out of us with all of this," Garfield Logan announced before disappearing momentarily and then reappearing as he bounced off the ground and back in front of the camera.

"Sorry," Nightwing laughed. He watched as a metal hand grabbed the green rabbit by the ears.

"You're in the way again, Logan."

"Hey, Robbie!" Garth called from somewhere unseen.

"Where is he?" Starfire demanded.

"On the monitor," Vic replied. The monitor began to shake as everyone present tried to get in front of it.

It was at this point that Alfred regained control. "Ladies and gentlemen, please. As I was saying, Sir," Alfred continued, turning back to camera. "We have about a dozen people here and the number is growing. I have most of them in the ballroom awaiting your return."

"No. Open the east wing and show them to rooms, Alfred. Please pass on Dick's apologies but he is exhausted and will be going to bed the moment we return."

"Hang on a minute," Grayson snapped.

"Dick will be happy to see them all at breakfast," Bruce finished.

"Very good, Sir," Alfred responded before switching off the monitor.

"You can't just cast them aside like that! They've come a long way and..."

"I don't care. The decision has been made. You will be going to bed."

Dick laughed at the absurdity of the statement. "Bruce, I'm not a child any more."

"Wrong." Batman switched the car to automatic pilot and turned to his boy. For several seconds he stared at him. It was time. He'd prayed for this chance. An emotional whisper followed. "You're _my _child and you always will be."

Nightwing blinked. "Bruce..."

"Let me finish. When you were little you knew how much I cared... because I used to tell you." It was almost a revelation for Bruce. He did used to tell Dick. He remembered doing it. "As you got older, it got harder for some reason. I don't know why. When I lost you..." A lump formed in his throat. "When I lost you, I lost everything. Everything that meant anything to me. I didn't realize that you...."

"Bruce... it's okay. I know," Dick assured gently.

Batman continued to stare at his boy. "You're not a child anymore," he admitted. "You're a grown man I'm proud to call my friend and my partner. But none of that changes the fact that you'll always be my son." Silence followed the emotional admission. Bruce and Dick's eyes locked together in a way that was theirs alone. Their souls touched just as they had so many years before. _And I love you._

Dick Grayson understood the message like it had been shouted at him. "I've always known that, Bruce."

"I'm so sorry for all that's happened, son. Things are going to change."

Dick nodded. Bruce squeezed his boy's shoulder and then returned to driving by flicking off the automatic pilot. "Lay back and rest. We'll be home soon."

Dick followed the instruction... for about two seconds. He lifted his head and frowned. "I'm hungry. Can we grab McDonalds drive-thru on the way home?"

Batman turned to Nightwing flabbergasted. They had just shared a highly poignant moment and... he was hungry!

"What? Dick asked with astonished innocence.

"Nothing, son. The usual?"

"Three Big Macs and fries. Do you want anything?"

Bruce Wayne smiled, but this smile was not emanating from his face muscles, it was coming from the recesses of his soul.

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Happiness. The essence of contentment. The absence of grief. An emotion that repairs the soul. The product of knowing that all is right with those you love - the path back from the abyss.

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Stay tuned for the sequel when Dick's friends let him know how much they care, Barbara has a few choice words for Bruce and Hugo Strange uses the 'key'.

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.

** © August 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


End file.
